Apocalypse
by Konnie-chan
Summary: Remy is in search of himself, trying to fight his demons, and finds how literally fate has planned on helping him do so. (on hiatus)
1. Prologue

**APOCALYPSE**

_**Disclaimer: If I'd owned, I'd be rich, spending my time in my beach house, with my very expensive furniture, my very expensive clothes, and my very handsome trophy husband. Not writing fan fiction, I guess...maybe. Anyway, y'all adorable guys from Marvel, people who I greatly admire, don't sue.**_

_**Author's notes: I mean no blasphemy with this. It's just for fun. Bare in mind I AM catholic, so if you are too, or in anyway Christian, do not be offended bythis. I'm not sure if it is offensive to use the bible as inspiration. I hope not. Don't wanna burn in hell.**_

_**Summary: Remy is in search of himself, trying to fight his demons, and finds howliterally fate has planned on helping him do so.**_

_**Timeline: Somewhere after Uncanny X-men # 340 and definitively before UXM # 341, with a bit of a flashback at the beginning. This is AU, so don't look for too much similarity with the canon.**_

_**Feedback: ----Remember this address, my beloved reader. Either you coment, or you don't get a next chapter! I warn ya! And you'll just have to guess whether I'm joking or not! ;)**_

_**Rating: PG-13 (for now)**_

**PROLOGUE**

_**New Orleans 1975**_

_"Have you located the signal?"_A roar came from nowhere through the improvised Sinister's quarters.

"Yes sir, just as it has been written. I've found the offspring, and it has the mark that is mentioned in the prophecies we got from the caves of the guardians. It's a boy, the chosen one. Shall I destroy it?"

_"No Essex. You couldn't destroy it if you tried, it's fate we're facing. I've waited for this moment my entire existence. The only way I can make this universe my own, as it was intended to be. But even if we have to let it live, we can still play a little. Kill it's parents. Make sure that unwilling ally of ours, the antiquary, takes it and does his job. We'll keep a close look on it, make sure we play with it's mind enough to take it away from it's path. We now have to find the second offspring."_

"I've located it's parents. They haven't met yet. The second offspring won't be born for another five years."

_"Follow their process closely. Learn all you can about it's family. We may use it in the future."_

"Understood master."

**TBC**


	2. Redemption

APOCALYPSE  
  
For all useful information, such as summary, disclaimer, my own personal notes,   
  
or feedback instructions (hint, hint) see the prologue.  
  
CHAPTER ONE  
  
REDEMPTION.  
  
On the limits of Xavier's land, rest the ruins of the first church in Salem   
  
center. It's silent walls have seen the funeral of too many X-men, to many   
  
casualties of a war they desperately try to stop. But on that calmed afternoon,   
  
there was only one visitor to the chapel. A visitor that didn't even believed in   
  
praying anymore. His God had abandoned him too many times. He figured his Lord   
  
had seen into his diabolic soul and decided to forget he was ever born. He could   
  
not blame him. After all, maybe people in his home town had known the truth   
  
about him before himself. He was "Le diable blanc". He'd live his all life   
  
proving them right.   
  
Right now, he was looking for redemption. A redemption he thought he'd get as an   
  
X-men. But his past still haunted him.   
  
He still had to encounter the same faces from his past, over and over again,   
  
without being able to bare his soul to anyone, and frightened out of his wits   
  
that one day one of those faces would say something inappropriate and uncover   
  
his lies to the people he now considered family.  
  
They would know, eventually. He could feel it in his bones. The time was coming.   
  
But he still couldn't bring himself to tell them.   
  
There was more though. He had always felt haunted by his sins. But lately, they   
  
were in his mind, his dreams, every breathing second. He was always waiting now,   
  
unsure of what, but knowing that the truth would reveal itself. Something inside   
  
of him was growing. The unmerciful breath of fate was on his back at all times.  
  
Then there was his "charm power". He'd always joked about it, never paid much   
  
attention to the ability he had to coax people into doing what he wanted. He had   
  
never even considered it as a real mutant ability. He'd regarded it as a great   
  
intuition and a charming personality. But now he knew better. That hint of   
  
perception he'd always had about people's feelings was growing stronger;   
  
catching him by surprise, and making it almost impossible for him to hide. He'd   
  
noticed for the first time when he'd seen Joseph waiting by Rogue's window. The   
  
unbearable naive, white haired guy was in loved with her. He'd felt the pure,   
  
overwhelming emotion and he just couldn't bare it. It had been even stronger   
  
than his own feelings for the southern beauty. Joseph loved her more than   
  
himself, and it wasn't fair. Not after all he'd gone through, all he'd fought   
  
for their seemingly undying love.   
  
After that, he could feel it all. Scott's stress of having to take care of   
  
everything now that Xavier was gone, Stormy's sorrow on that dreaded   
  
anniversary. Rogue's confusion about her feelings, Logan's fight with his wild   
  
side, Beast's joy about being free...he could feel it all.   
  
Just a few hours ago he'd felt the pain in Bobby's soul after almost loosing his   
  
father, and it had been too much for him. Somehow he remembered the horror on   
  
the Morlocks' faces, almost being able to feel their pain when they had to see   
  
their sons and daughters, their brothers and sisters, fathers and mothers, being   
  
slaughtered by the Marauders, and knowing they would be next.   
  
Creed. He hated the name. The sole sound of it sent shivers down his spine. It   
  
was evident now that the sadistic animal had passed his evil seed onto his son.   
  
The powerful candidate was nothing but a tamer version of the monster. And he   
  
could still remember Victor Creed's claws on his guts, still remember the look   
  
on Genevieve and Henri's faces. If he hadn't been an X-men, the monster would be   
  
dead by now.   
  
Maybe, he thought, he shouldn't be an X-men anymore. His thirst for revenge was   
  
too great at that moment, but that wasn't the reason. Just that morning he'd   
  
seen Jean's suspicious face. He'd gotten up in a good mood, unaware of Bobby's   
  
tragedy, and walked inside the kitchen feeling great. Jean, who'd already heard   
  
and was feeling miserable, had somehow picked on his good mood; not from seeing   
  
his face, she'd felt it. The startled look on her face spoke volumes. In any   
  
other circumstance, she wouldn't have noticed he was broadcasting, but the   
  
contrast of emotion left no place for doubt. She suspected, and it was a matter   
  
of time before she knew what he was hiding. And with her, everyone else.   
  
He ha so much going on in his head, that he felt it was about to burst. He just   
  
knelt infront of the altar, and slowly, almost frightened, rose his hand, first   
  
to his forehead, then to his stomach, pausing a moment to remember whether it   
  
was the left or the right shoulder first, and cringing. Something that had been   
  
a second nature for him, he now had to think over to get it right. It was a long   
  
lost habit, he'd lost all the good things Jean-Luc had taught him, clinging to   
  
the bad ones, because it was convenient.  
  
He remembered having seen Peter signaling his right shoulder first the only time   
  
he'd seen the huge man praying, something that had surprised him greatly knowing   
  
that Colossus had been an atheist. So it had to be the left. He remembered as   
  
much.   
  
He begun mumbling what he remembered of the "Hail Mary" half in French, half in   
  
English, but desisted half way through it.  
  
"Mon Dieu..." he begun, lowering his eyes to the ground. ""Mon Dieu, I hope...I   
  
wish mebbe I will get y'r pardon. Non? Will y' let me join you when de time   
  
comes? S'il vous plait, mon Dieu. Je suis dèsolè. Know I don' deserve it. Haven'   
  
thought about y' much..." he let out a embarrassed smile, he was definitively   
  
rusty. "Mon Dieu,...will y' show me how to make amends? I promise I'll try, mon   
  
Dieu. Can' promise I'll be good at it, but I'm tryin' to be a bon fils. I need   
  
y' to show me how..."  
  
The floor behind him squeaked slightly. A less trained ear wouldn't have   
  
noticed, but he froze in place. He couldn't help to be a little paranoid. But   
  
this was a church. And the feelings he was picking up spoke of nothing but   
  
kindness and sympathy.   
  
"Mon Dieu, will y' teach mes amis not to spy on ol' Remy while he prays?" he   
  
said with a sly smile. The footsteps became louder and he turned around,   
  
catching a glimpse of a furry blue skin a little darker than the one he was used   
  
to.  
  
"I'm very sorry mein friend." Came a guttural voice. Remy sighed in relief. This   
  
man was practically a stranger to him, and he could talk with a stranger.  
  
"C'est bien, mon ami. How much of Remy's prayer did y' hear? Have to remember to   
  
do it quietly."  
  
"Zat's ok. It was my bad. I should've let you know I was here. It was a   
  
beautiful prayer, an honest one."  
  
"Merci Kurt. I'll leave y' to y'r prayers now." He rose from the bench, but Kurt   
  
seized his wrists gently.  
  
"You know, when two or more people are gathered on his behalf..." Remy smiled   
  
and sat back down  
  
"He's dere wit' dem. I know. Y'r a pere, n'est ce pas?"   
  
"Yah. Would you like to confess?" He said kindly. Remy winced.  
  
"Can I do dat without tellin' y' my sins?"   
  
"Nein. But you don't need to be specific, and I can't tell anyone what you tell   
  
me. You look like you need to talk anyway." Remy sighed and nodded.   
  
"Here goes not'ing...I..." he paused, and rubbed his eyes. Kurt noticed his   
  
hands where shaking, and felt sorry for the man.   
  
"Take your time. I have it to spare. No one even knows I'm here. I just felt   
  
like visiting this place. I do zat sometimes."   
  
"I lied..." Remy said bluntly. Kurt nodded.  
  
"About what?"  
  
"'Bout moi. I'm not what dey t'ink I am."  
  
"What are you?"  
  
"I'm evil. A traitor. I don' deserve to be deir friend, I..."  
  
"Have you tried to hurt them? Did you willingly betrayed dem?"   
  
"I don' know. I didn' wan' to hurt none, mais I did. Remy's done a lot of   
  
horrible t'ings, hurt a lot of people. And den he lied 'bout it, hid it from his   
  
friends."  
  
Kurt felt guilt, self loath and confusion washing over him, and grabbed the   
  
bench to steady himself. He frowned, recognising the source of the feelings. He   
  
had a lot of control over his own emotions, and he easily recognised the alien   
  
ones.   
  
"Remy? Are you an empath?" Remy went abnormally pale.  
  
"An empath?...Non! Non, Remy...Remy ain' no empath!" Remy cried desperately,   
  
breathing faster. Kurt just smiled.  
  
"You really shouldn't lie to your father confessor, Remy. It's...honestly, it's   
  
silly." Remy looked down, embarrassed, and nodded.  
  
"Oui, I'm an empath...but please! Please don' tell dem! Dey'll hate me... dey'll   
  
t'ink I play wit' dem. S'ill vous plait?"   
  
"I told you, Remy, nothing you say leaves this church. I promise."   
  
"Merci." He whispered.   
  
"Why are you hiding like this? Why don't you trust them? We all have skeletons   
  
in our closets Remy. None will judge you."  
  
"I can' tell none. Dey can' know."  
  
"These things you've mentioned, the sins you've committed, they are from your   
  
past, yah?"  
  
"Oui. Long time ago."  
  
"Have you done it again? Hurt people like zat?"   
  
"Non! Non, I...I'm so sorry...I can' sleep at night rememberin' 'bout it, an'   
  
when I sleep, I see it all over again in my dreams. I jus' wan' peace."  
  
"Then let it go, Remy. If you hold on to your past, you'll make the same   
  
mistakes all over again. It's over. Think about the future now. You've proved to   
  
be a loyal friend, I know they trust you. Stop torturing yourself."  
  
"I can' forget, there's...too many faces...memories here." Kurt stood up, and   
  
placed a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"You have to find a way to let it go. Not to forget, because that's as harmful,   
  
if not more, than to hold on like you are doing. But for what is worth, I   
  
absolve you, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. God will   
  
show you how to do penance. Don't forget about Him, Remy. He loves all his   
  
children, and wants noting more than to forgive you, if you let him."  
  
Remy stood up as well, and shook Kurt's hand.  
  
"Merci, mon ami. Y' don' know how much it means to me. I'll leave y' alone to   
  
pray now."  
  
"It was a pleasure Remy. If you ever feel like telling someone..."  
  
"Merci...mais I don' t'ink I'm ready."  
  
Or maybe he had never been more ready than now. He'd gotten his answer, he just   
  
needed to know what to do now.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 


	3. Decisions

APOCALYPSE  
  
For all useful information, such as summary, disclaimer, my own personal notes, or feedback instructions (hint, hint) see part one.  
Rating: I dunno, PG-13, but there's characters swearing. So I'm not sure.  
  
Author's note: I had just posted the first chapter, happy and giddy about posting this story, and started reading one ol' comic book I had lying around to get me in the mood for writing chapter two when I noticed a fatal mistake. See? My mother tongue ain't English, but Spanish, and having to write in English, while thinking in Spanish and having to pull of not only a French accent, but a German as well, requires concentration, lemme tell ya. Thing is, I added a fifth language, cuz I made Kurt say 'niet' instead on 'nein', one being Russian for 'no', the other German, of course ;). Right now I don't even know what language I'm speaking all the time.  
I already fixed the mistake, but if you had the chance to read it, please, forget it happened.   
  
CHAPTER TWO   
  
DECISIONS  
  
It was a beautiful evening. The moon was starting to appear while the sun hadn't set yet. The sky was bathed with a soft shade of pink and everything around the mansion was harmony and peace. So odd for them it was almost precious. He didn't want to be cheesy, but he was sure Henri would come up with a quote from some romantic poet to describe that sunset.   
Remy sighed, taking another swig from his beer. He couldn't stop thinking about his latest dream. He would have called it a nightmare, but it had been more bizarre than scary.   
He didn't quite remembered the details of it; not that he really cared. He knew how it went. Tunnels, Morlocks, marauders, death. He remembered something else. A presence in his dream. Something soothing. It remained him of Rogue in some way, though he didn't quite know why.   
He shrugged, leaving the now empty can on the counter next to the previous two, and opened another.   
Kurt's words lingered in his mind. He had to find a way to leave his past behind him. Could he do that and stay at the mansion? Didn't the X-men have too much connection with his past? Could he find peace having to see Sinister, Creed, Warren, even his dear Stormy?   
Maybe if he confessed. He knew he had to, but he also knew he couldn't.   
The idea of leaving had been running through his head for a while now. With his powers changing and all. He needed time. Something inside of him told him it was time to pack his stuff and leave. He had the inexplicable impulse to go west. As if something were waiting for him there. Anyway, he considered his options. He couldn't go to New Orleans. Nor to Seattle. A little voice in his head screamed 'Chicago'. Why would he want to see Chicago? He'd never had any special interest for the windy city.   
He was too lost in thought to notice someone walking in the kitchen, but not so that he couldn't feel the friendly concern washing over him. He looked up, lifting his head too fast, and loosing balance. He grabbed the counter for support and smiled.  
  
"Hiya Gumbo. Whatcha doing here? Have you seen Wolvie? Did you drink all that? Man, you must be wasted. You look like crap. Did Wolvie say when he'll be back? We were going to rent a movie. I convinced him to watch 'Jurassic park'. Ya should have seen the look on his face. Wanna...?"  
  
"Petite?" He smiled, and grabbed his head to steady himself.   
  
"What?"  
  
"Remy's a bit drunk an' y'r talkin' too fast, makin' Remy dizzy." Jubilee frowned.  
  
"Why're ya drunk Gumbo? Sad or somethin'?" he shook his head, slowly this time, so he wouldn't fall flat on his behind.  
  
"Non, not sad, petit. Mais Remy is t'inkin' too hard, an' he thought it would help him clear his head. He was very wrong." He smiled sheepishly at her, and she chuckled. She took the can from his hand. He didn't offer any resistance, but stared at her strangely.  
  
"C'mon Gumbo. Yer not Wolvie, ya can't hold yer liquor so good. Lemme make ya some coffee, 'k?"   
  
"I'm alwight petite, not ssso drunk." He slurred, and mentally kicked himself. Just like him to slur when he was defending his sobriety.  
  
"Yeah right, and I'm Winnona Ryder. Move yer ass, Cajun." she grabbed him by the elbow and led him to a chair. He walked a little unsteadily but made it to his destination without embarrassing himself any further.   
  
"Wolvie knows y' 've such a dirty mouth?" he chuckled dumbly.  
  
"Wolvie knows yer calling him Wolvie?" she smirked, and he winced.  
  
"Fair enough."   
  
"So Gumbo, what's eatin' ya? An arithmetic equation? That'll get me drunk any day." She said, turning on the coffee maker and separating two mugs.   
  
"Jus t'inkin' 'bout somet'ing petite. I'm afraid I messed up, t'inkin' 'bout what to do 'bout it." he didn't let his mood darken. Jubilee lived up to her name and he could never be grim around her.   
  
"Sure ya messed up, Cajun. Ya drank all of Wolvie's beer. He's gonna gut ya."  
  
"Ha, ha. Very funny petite. Like I drink from HIS beer. Sure. Y' t'ink Remy has a death wish now?" he said pretending to be shocked. Jubilee laughed.  
  
"Ya ain't as dumb as ya look, Cajun!" Remy went silent all of the sudden, looking gloomy. "I was joking ya dummy, you don't look dumb." Remy couldn't help but laugh a little.  
  
"Henri would've a field day wit' y' petite." He sighed. "Jubilee, do y' trust me?" The seriousness of his tone, plus hearing him using her name instead of 'petite' startled her.  
  
"Whatcha talkin' about swamp rat?! 'Course I trust ya! Yer like my favorite X men. After Wolvie, of course."  
  
"Of course." He mimicked with his arms. Then his face went dark again. "What if I tell y' I did somet'ing very, very wrong?" she seemed to really pondered on that question.  
  
"Like squashing a kitten with yer bike?" Remy burst out laughing. She could really lift his mood.  
  
"Non, mon petite." He said finally, after composing himself. "Somet'ing real bad. Let's say I hurt someone a lot, and didn' mean to. But den I hid it. What would y' t'ink of Remy?"   
  
"I once took fifty bucks from my dad's wallet. Turned out they were to buy something he really wanted, some fishin' stuff, and I spent them all in video games and movies. When he asked me, I lied and said it wasn't me so he wouldn't be so disappointed with me. But I felt like shit afterwards. Wished I had been honest. Something like that?"  
  
"Somet'ing like dat, but multiplied by a thousand."  
  
"Told ya, I ain't good at maths. But whatever it was Remy, yer family. My dad found out eventually, and he didn't hate me, ya know? And I felt relieved I got it of my chest. So spill, what did ya do?" she asked curiously.  
  
"Mebbe I tell y' someday, petite. I t'ink dis Cajun needs to go to be alone right now." He patted her hand affectionately, relieving on the innocence she emanated.   
  
"Hey! Coffee ain't even ready!"   
  
"Mebbe y' should save dat for Logan, I've a feelin' he'll need it. Wit' de dinosaurs an' all." He chuckled and she slapped his arm.  
  
"I'll make ya watch it too if ya keep it up!"  
  
"Non, petite. Remy already saw it. Y' make me watch dat an' I make y' watch a French film."  
  
"No way! What do ya want me to fall into a coma?!" she covered his mouth with her hands, shocked. "Remy...I'm so sorry, I didn't mean..." Remy cocked his head. It took him a few moments to understand the child's embarrassment.  
  
"Petite, Remy ain' traumatized by dat. Y' didn' say rien wrong, D'accord?" he said kindly, standing up and feeling relieved that the room wasn't spinning anymore. Though his head was still a little fuzzy. Jubilee flashed him a bright smile.   
  
"Phew! See? Yer so cool! There's some sensitive wussies around here, lemme tell ya! But not the Cajun!"  
  
"Now y' hurt me, petite. Remy has feelings." He said mock serious, dramatically placing a hand on his heart, "If y' hurt Remy, doesn' he bleed? If he's sad, doesn' he cry?"   
  
"Shut up, Gumbo! Yer making my stomach hurt!" she said between fits of laughter.   
She turned away from him, fixing some snacks for her movie experience. He watched her from the door feeling happy; he knew the feelings were alien, but he didn't care. Something she'd say reverberated in his mind... 'yer family'... she'd said. He didn't know if that was true, but he did know that he loved them all as if it was. They were his family. And he hadn't been a family to them. He'd kept himself from them. He hadn't trust them in fear of loosing their trust.   
  
"Still here Gumbo? Make yourself useful, eh? Pass me the mustard, will ya?" she said, without turning her back, slicing a piece bread.   
He steadied himself and begun walking towards the refrigerator when the door opened abruptly and the mustard leapt from the shelf landing on the counter.   
  
"Hey Watch it Cajun! You almost hit me! What are ya, Bobby now?" she turned around mock anger, but her expression changed upon seeing the pale, astonished face of her friend. She ran to her side, thinking he was going to pass out.  
  
"Hey, Gumbo, ya alright?" Remy stared at the mustard. 'I did dat!!!' he thought, feeling the floor moving again. 'How did I do dat?!?'  
  
"Gumbo, ya look like yer about to pass out. Want me to walk ya to yer bedroom? I can ask someone to help ya up, what do ya say?" Remy nodded at first, blinking, but then he shook his head.  
  
"I'm alright, petite. Feel a li'l dizzy, is all. I better go to bed early today." He said in a whisper.   
  
"Ya do dat. Ya look like shit, I tell ya." She laughed. He only turned around, and slowly, dazed, begun walking out the kitchen.   
  
"Bon nuit petite." He said in a monotonous tone. 'I did that?!' he thought.  
'Yes' another part of his brain answered. He just shook his head. He heard a faint, "Night Gumbo." Coming from behind him. He was too drunk to think right now. That had to be it. His eyes were playing tricks on him.   
He climbed the stairs slowly. He hoped it was just his imagination. But he knew it hadn't been.   
  
"Merde!" he whispered, closing his bedroom door fast behind him, shielding himself from everyone. "I've to find out what's goin' on. Remy's gonna get caught if he doesn' find out soon."   
He slumped on the bed. He knew his mind and his heart had already made a decision, he just hoped they would let him know what that was soon enough.   
  
"Mebbe tomorrow."  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 


	4. A compass

APOCALYPSE  
  
For all useful information, such as summary, disclaimer, my own personal notes, or feedback instructions (hint, hint) see the prologue.  
Author's notes (yet again): I made a slight change in dates. The first time I posted this (i.e yesterday) I set Remy's birth in 1970. Now it's 1975, and I added a small refference I'd forgoten to the prologue. I shouldn't have posted in such a haste. I know. I'm sorry. Besides, this site for some reason doesn't recognize some letters used in French. They came out as a weird O, so I'm pretending those letters don't exist. If you know French, use your imagination. And thanks so much for the people who reviewed. That was FAST! :)  
CHAPTER THREE:  
  
A COMPASS.   
  
Morlocks laid dead or dying everywhere he looked. Faces of his past hovered around him chaotically. One moment he was in the tunnels, then he'd turn his head and he'd see Belladonna dying and then trying to kill him and Rogue. He would hear Genevieve laughing, then pleading for her life. Everyone who'd ever trusted him, he'd see hurt because of him by the hands of some psychotic bastard, or by himself. He looked around desperately, aware that this was just a dream, but unable to take it. After all, he WAS remembering. This things had happened. They weren't illusions.  
"Je suis dèsolè." He whispered to himself, and started running.   
"Coward!" someone shouted from all the mayhem around him, but he kept on running. His empathy would not give him a brake, not even on his dreams, and the mixture of emotion, anger, hate, sadism, pain and fear amongst others were making him feel he was loosing his mind. A few people came running after him, and he saw them crash against the wall by a mere look he'd given them from the corner of his eye. None had pushed them, and they had been plastered against the wall like bugs. It had been him. He'd willed it to happen.  
He closed his eyes tightly and ran faster. Afraid of the dream, of himself and what was happening to him. When he opened them again, he saw that the settings of his dream had changed. At it was confusing to him, because he did not recognize the place. It was an alley. Perhaps an alley he'd seen in his youth, he thought. Living on the streets he'd seen his share of dark alleys. But this didn't look like New Orleans. The air smelled differently. How could he remember a place he'd never been to?  
He stopped running; he just stood there, taking on his surroundings, trying to sort his thoughts. Then it hitted him. This wasn't his past, it was his future. He was mildly surprised; not enough though, everything in his life had taken a surreal turn. He was always waiting, he knew the time was upon him.  
The phrase took a life on it's on, stopped being a random thought and became a sort of mantra.   
It's time...it's time...it's time...  
Like an echo on the deserted alley.  
"Time for what?!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. "What is Remy waitin' for?!!"  
  
"You know, Remy..." a soft voice filled with kindness broke the echo and he spun around to look at the shadow behind him. It was a woman, but he couldn't see her face. Behind her stood another shadow, this one not so comforting. A huge figure of what he supposed had to be a man, dripping a kind of evil he couldn't begin to comprehend. The woman stepped closer and Remy felt a tenderness and undescribable love washing over him. And it surprised him greatly, because he knew it was his own.   
  
"Cherie...help Remy...he don' know what's happenin'." The shadow nodded and spoke, her voice sweet and gentle.  
  
"Stop running Remy. Face your destiny. It's time."  
  
"What do I do? How do I face it?"  
  
"The angels will guide you, my love. You'll know."   
  
"De angès?"   
  
"It's time Remy, wake up." Her contour became distorted, and behind her there wasn't just the tall, big guy, but an army of shadows. She turned her head, seemingly scared, if what he'd picked on her was right, and her eyes gleamed a bright golden light.  
  
"They're coming Remy, it's time. Wake up!!" she yelled. The ones he'd been running from charged towards him and he was paralyzed by confusion and fear.   
  
"Wake up Sugah! Remy? C'mon sugah, wake up!" the familiar voice startled him. He didn't know if it had come from the girl infront of him, but he was sure that hadn't been her voice. He felt something shaking him by his shoulder and the world begun dissolving around him.   
He cracked his eyes open, one at a time, to be rewarded with two beautiful emerald spheres he'd learn to love and crave as the good thief he was, staring down at him in concern.  
  
"Cherie...y' look worried about Remy, but mebbe I be to sleepy to tell. Why y' wake me so early in de mornin'?" Rogue laughed wholeheartedly, her worries slipping away.   
  
"Early sugah?! It's noon! Yer amazing." She said sweetly.   
  
"It's early as long as this Cajun feels so sleepy and drowsy, cherie." That being an understatement. His head hurt like never before, his mouth felt like sandpaper and his ears were hypersensitive. He ducked his head under his pillow and groaned.  
  
"Want an aspirin Remy? Guess ya drank too much last night sugah, ye were havin' a nightmare. C'mon, Ah'll fix ya a nice breakfast...lunch, whateva. What do ya say?"   
He just threw the pillow away, angrily, and Rogue stared at him startled.  
  
"Fuck, Merde! I hate it!" he leaped from his bed and ran to the bathroom, with Rogue following him closely.   
  
"Sugah, Remy, what's wrong?" he splashed water over his face, cursing in French and ignoring her.  
  
"Nightmares, nightmares...tout le jours, tout le nuits! Remy's tired!" he glanced his eyes skywards and sighed, letting all the anger and the frustration wash away from him. Rogue frowned and then pushed him to the nearest wall, her face red with anger.  
  
"Fuck ya Cajun! It's all me, me, me in yer head, isn't it? Ya didn't even ask me what Ah was doing 'ere!"   
Remy stared at her wide eyed, understanding what was happening, and before he could stop himself, she was slamming against the opposite wall herself. Before it could get out of hand, and completely ignoring his internal voice that was yelling at him he'd just taken out Rogue, the strongest of the X-men, he'd rushed over to her side. Partly to cover himself, not letting her wonder what had hit her, and partly to calm her down as well as himself. He hugged her through the fabric of her sweater, and tried to send her the same calm and comfort he was trying to convey for himself. He ran a hand through her hair.  
"Cherie, I'm so sorry." He smiled apologetically as she came around.  
"What did ya do swamp rat?" she asked calmly, and he sighed in relief.  
"Y' scared me, dat be all. I'm sorry I made y' mad. 'M a little selfish at times, non?" she looked down, and he felt her guilt. He pulled away a little and stiffened. "Rogue?" just then he remembered her words, what WAS she doing there? They weren't really an item anymore. Did she wanted them to get back together? A thought startled him. If that were the case, did HE wanted to get back together with her?   
"Ah came 'ere to talk to ya, Remy." She fidgeted uncomfortably. "Ah needed to tell ya somethin', ye see?" she was afraid, he could feel it. Suddenly he could hear a whisper from the back of his mind, see flashes of scenes he'd never lived, and he cringed. Joseph. Rogue and Joseph, talking, holding hands, just being happy with each other's company...he shut the memories away. He didn't want to see what was next. But the whispers lingered.   
'Ah'm so sorry, sugah, never meant to hurt ya like this...Ah do love ya...Ah don't know why Ah feel like this...Gawd!! how am Ah gonna tell ya!?'  
On the outside, she was just mumbling and laughing nervously. He looked down, fighting back the tears.  
  
"Cherie?" she stopped babbling and bit her lip.   
  
"What sugah?"  
  
"Je t'aime, y' know dat, don' y'?" she nodded. "Bien, mais I was t'inkin', and Remy needs time, he gets nervous, we been in a long relationship an' he ain' used to it. I was t'inkin'...well, y' an' Joseph...y' could...see where it goes. Being I'm so indecisive an' all..."  
  
"Remy?" she said uncertain, and obviously relieved. He needn't be an empath to tell. "Whatcha talkin' 'bout sugah?"  
  
"Not dat I'm saying I won' be jealous, but it's not fair to y' if I ask y' to be faithful when I not, n'est ce pas?" he ached inside, but he forced himself to look like a heartless bastard. He felt he'd hurt her and focused on comforting her sending her his love, even if he couldn't show her.   
  
"Ya son of a bitch." She whispered, and just left without even looking at him.  
  
"Je t'aime, mon coeur, toujours." He whispered back, knowing she couldn't hear him.   
He walked back into his room, his mind a turmoil. As if something was trying to tell him he'd made his decision, the door of his closet opened and a duffel bag flew out, landing on his bed.  
  
"Guess Remy know what to do, non?" he sighed sadly and begun packing.   
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 


	5. Left behind

APOCALYPSE  
  
I do not own, you do not sue. You comment, I write. (for the long, eloquent version, see the prologue.)   
Yes, yes, another author's note: I just wanted to thank a certain little person for pointing out my grammatical mistakes. I can condole typos, it happens to the best of us, but grammar is sacred to me, and I hate myself when I realize I've made a mistake. I have corrected "these" :) errors you've pointed out. You know, for the future generation of readers and all. I did try to pay more attention this time, but feel free to point out more mistakes.   
On with the story!   
  
  
CHAPTER FOUR:  
  
LEFT BEHIND  
  
The goddess was speaking to her. She had been speaking to her for days. Nature's essence was glowing brighter than ever, reminding her of the climax of a song; when you know the tune is about to end, but yet you enjoy it the most. Everything seemed greener, the scents where stronger, the air was filled with energy.   
Ororo Munroe contemplated the little haven that was her room and how the soft breeze coming from her open window played with the leaves causing a ruffle that to her sounded like a song. She was perfectly attuned with that living force surrounding her. She was a part of it all, and she was at peace.   
The sound of an envelope being slipped under her door broke the perfect harmony, and she was brought back from her musings. She walked slowly to the white piece of paper and picked it up, recognizing the handwriting. It simply read 'Stormy'. She opened her door out of curiosity, and saw the retreating figure on the hallway. Kindly, she spoke up.  
  
"Remy?" he stopped on his tracks and turned around, smiling slightly.   
  
"Stormy, y' don' let an homme leave wit' his dignity intact, n'est ce pas?" he said sadly, and Storm frowned.  
  
"Leave? Where are you going?" Remy sighed.  
  
"I need a vacation, is all. It's all in de letter. I have to go now; adieu, mon amie." He said hastily and turned around again to leave.  
  
"Wait! What does it say? Lets read it!" she said faking enthusiasm, knowing Remy was hiding something. She was startled though, when he turned around, pale as the piece of paper in her hand, and tried to snatch the letter from her hands.  
  
"Non! Y' can' read it now!" he yelled, awfully upset.   
  
"Remy, let go this instant! Calm down and tell me what this is about!" She used her most severe tone; one that was usually reserved for the younger people, but that had proved to be useful with the Cajun she thought of as her brother, who was prone to childish behavior, though obviously of a different nature than Bobby's. His eyes met hers pleadingly and she smiled.  
  
"I won't read it until you leave. But you are not leaving until you tell me where you're going and what has gotten you so upset."  
  
"I can' tell y'." He lowered his gaze.  
  
"Why can't you?"  
  
"Is somet'ing I need to deal with by myself. Dat's why I'l leavin'" She nodded.  
  
"I can understand that. When will you be back?"  
  
"I won' be back Stormy." His voice cracked, and her heart sank.  
  
"Why Remy? What's going on?! Are you in trouble?" he nodded.  
  
"Oui, Remy is in trouble."  
  
"Then why leave? Stay, and we'll help you!"  
  
"Non, I can'. Y'll understand when you read de letter."   
Storm sighed.   
  
"Why are you running away from us, Remy?"  
  
"'Cause I'm a coward, an' I don' wan' to be one anymore." He said in a small voice. He brows knitted together in confusion.  
  
"How can you say you're a coward, brother? After all we've faced, all you've been through..." he smiled and shook his head.  
  
"A coward is de one who can' face his fears, Stormy. I ain' afraid of de bad guys. I ain' afraid of de battle. It's more complicated dan dat."  
  
"And your solution is to run away from us?! Abandon your family? Again?! That doesn't make sense!" she yelled in frustration.  
  
"Stormy, I have to leave. I must. Y'll understand later. But I ain' runnin' away. I hope y' understand." One tear escaped her eye and she hugged him tightly.  
  
"I don't, brother, but I can tell you need this. Please reconsider and come back after whatever it is you need to face."  
  
"I wish y'll t'ink dat after readin' de letter. Will y' take care of Marie? Tell her I love her?"  
  
"I will, brother. Please take care of yourself."  
  
"J'taime Stormy, I'll miss y'."  
  
"I'll miss you too, Remy, and I love you."  
  
She watched him leave, leaning on the rail of the stairs, and letting her tears flow freely. She wondered why she hadn't put up more of a fight. She'd accepted what he'd said too quickly, and now she regretted it. A soft drizzle started to fall over the mansion, and she forced herself to stay calmed. The last thing she wanted was to cause her brother to drive through the rain.   
She stared at the envelope for a while before opening it and starting to read.   
  
"Dear Stormy:  
I am writing this because I can't even think of being there and seeing the expression on your face when you find out what I have to tell you.  
I won't make it long, won't try to justify myself, I'll just get to the point, since I'm sure you'll hate me afterwards and if I make it quick, maybe I won't hurt you as much. Like pulling out a band-aid.   
Remember when you found me on the tunnels? The night of the anniversary of the Morlocks' massacre, and I told you why I was there?   
  
I lied Stormy. I was there out of guilt.   
  
Never mind the why, the thing is that I've worked for Sinister in the past, before I joined the X men. I gathered the marauders. It was I who led them through the tunnels.   
I can only say for myself that I did not know their intentions when I did it. I did not know they where going to kill them like they did. And I did try to stop them. I tell this to myself over and over again. It's the only thing I have left to keep my sanity.   
There are no words for me to express how sorry I am. About my past, about lying to you all and about hurting you now.   
Please don't come after me. I'm sure you all will want to punish me like I deserve to be punished, but I fear for your safety if you do so. I have the feeling that I'll be judged anyway, and I've learned to trust my feelings the past few days.   
All I can say is that I did not lie when I told you I love you, you've been my one true friend. I am not leaving just because I'm afraid of your hatred, the one I'm sure you feel for me by now. I'm leaving to do the right thing and for once face the one thing I fear the most. That would be myself.  
I'll miss you with all my heart, mon amie. I'm sorry.  
  
Remy LeBeau."   
  
She sat on the floor next to her door. Thunder and lightning raged outside, reflecting her torment.   
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 


	6. Memories

APOCALYPSE  
  
I do not own, you do not sue. You comment, I write. (for the long, eloquent version, see the prologue.)   
  
CHAPTER FIVE:  
  
MEMORIES  
  
Scott put the letter down. If he could have rubbed his eyes at that very moment, he would have, because he was having a hard time believing what he had just read.   
The silence in the War room was deafening. The Cajun's confession had left everyone stunned. But there was one man who's silence was caused for something more than astonishment. He sat quietly on a dark corner, looking down, holding a cigar between his sharp teeth. He'd listened to Scott reciting the letter as quietly as he was now. He wasn't shocked, or outraged as some of his teammates. As he saw it, the past was the past. The kid had proved his loyalty to them over the years.   
It was something else in the letter that had caught his attention. It wasn't a word or a phrase. It was a nagging feeling at the back of his brain. Something he felt he should know; he should remember.  
Around him, people started talking, trying to make decisions and form opinions. He looked at the faces of those he felt would be most affected by the news.   
Storm was silent, her face unreadable for someone who didn't know her as much as he did. As far as he was concerned, he knew she was fighting her feelings. Trapped between resentment and love. And he also knew she would forgive him eventually. It was written all over her face, for those who knew how to read the goddess.   
Warren was livid. He'd never seen the winged man so angry in his life, and it had been a long life. He was shouting that they should go after him, make him pay. It was still odd to see those fluffy wings spread wide on his back again. Betsy was pretty much the same. She said something about sensing Sinister in the Cajun's brain, that he couldn't be trusted, that now the entire mansion was at danger because he knew his way around. To his surprise, Jean agreed with her.  
  
"I must confess I have a hard time holding this against him." She begun. "But the truth is that there's something about him that makes me nervous. The last couple of days I've noticed something that put me on guard, and after a lot of thinking and his confession, I'm pretty sure Gambit is an empath."  
  
"What?!" Scott gasped. "How can that be possible? The professor would have known!!" Logan was a little surprised by that himself. He didn't like telepaths, and an empath was almost the same, if not worse.   
  
"Not really, Scott. Remy has never been easy to read. Remember how he pushed Betsy away from his mind? And he was weakened! He has a very powerful mind, and I can't help to think that he might have been playing us all. Not letting us see who he really was. He was probably working for Sinister all this time." She said bitterly.   
  
Rogue shook his head in tears. He felt really sorry for the girl. That was the one thing he was mad about. The Cajun had hurt her badly.  
  
"Ah was in his head too, in a way. Remember? Ah couldn't make out most of it, it was too confusing. but Ah remember Sinister now. His memories of him weren't pleasant, lemme tell ya! He hates the guy!"  
  
"But he worked for him! He gathered the marauders!" Warren roared. Rogue seemed to be searching the depths of her memory. His memory.  
  
"He didn't...he didn't know that would happen...Ah'm not saying he did it out of the goodness of his heart, no...he was a thief, sort of a mercenary in that job, like me...he owed Sinister something...he played him, tricked him...but he never meant...he didn't know people would die." It almost looked like she was reliving the whole thing herself. Joseph held her and she cried harder.  
  
"Rogue, I understand what you are saying. I won't make a judgement so quickly as some of you. but we need to find him. He has a lot of explaining to do." Scott said in his full 'fearless leader' mode.   
  
"He asked to be left alone. He deserves his space." Storm said in a small, uncertain voice.  
  
"What if Jean is right, 'Ro? What if he was just a spy? Can we take that chance?" he answered kindly. "We have to look for him and bring him here. But no one will hurt him, or judge him, before he has a chance to explain."   
  
Warren left the War room enraged, and Betsy followed him. The rest just nodded. Rogue, on her part, pulled away from Joseph rather abruptly, leaving the young man stunned.  
  
"Ah'll go. But Ah want to go alone."  
  
Logan stared at her. The nagging feeling in the back of his brain became stronger. He knew this, he had to remember!   
  
"I can't let you go alone, Rogue. He might be dangerous." Scott said determined.   
  
"We know him! Gawd! He's our friend! I will go alone, even if I have to fight ya for it, one-eye!" she snapped.   
  
"Listen, Rogue..." Scott started, but something in Logan stirred,  
  
"Save it Cyke, I'll go with her." Rogue was about to protest, but he held up a hand. "Ya can say whatever ya want kid, but I'm goin', and I wouldn't mind fightin' ya for it either." He grinned, showing her his teeth, and she pouted. "But just the two of us. I would like to have a word with Gumbo anyway."   
  
"Ya ain't hurting him, ye heah me?!"  
  
"Nah, it'd be a waste of a good set of claws." He grinned again. Rogue crossed her arms, looking snippy. All in all, he knew that from all of them, he wasn't going to be rejected by her to come along.   
'Talking 'bout rejection...' he thought, glancing at Joseph, he was staring at her with pain in his eyes, and he couldn't help feeling sorry for the kid. 'I could have told ya not to come between those two. They may seem doomed to disaster, but that's just them.'   
Rogue and Scott resumed their bickering, but at least Scott wasn't fighting him, so he knew he was going along, and on his terms. He walked to where Ororo stood.  
  
"Hey 'Ro." He said casually, and she gave him a sad smile.  
  
"I guess he was right." She shook his head.  
  
"'Bout what, 'Ro?" taking a long whiff of his cigar, he leaned on the wall next to them.  
  
"About our reaction. But he was right about something else. He's a coward."  
  
"Kid said he was a coward?"  
  
"Yes. And then he ran away, dropping this bomb on us. He should have staid to face the consequences. We would have heard him, let him defend himself. Yes, we would have been mad, but..." Logan shook his head.  
  
"That's not why he left." Why was he so sure about that?  
  
"Well, he says that in the letter, but that's just an excuse.,," she started, but he shook his head again.  
  
"No, 'Ro. Don't ask me how I know, but he had to leave. He just wanted to tie loose ends. He may..." What the hell was he talking about?! He frowned.  
  
"Logan, did he talk to you before he left?" Ororo seemed curious of how he had such an insight on her brother. "He may..., what, Logan?"  
  
"He may not survive," he said deadpan. "I don't know how I know 'Ro. This is getting creepy. I should go talk to Cyke now."  
  
He turned around, leaving her with a baffled look on her face. 'She must think yer crazy!' he thought. On the outside, he just growled.   
Apparently, the quarrel between Cyclops and Rogue was over, because as soon as he reach them, she gave him a nasty look and fled out of the room. Logan just grinned.  
  
"So, I get to go?" Scott nodded tiredly. "Just the two of us?" Scott nodded again. "Great!" he patted his shoulder, heard him sigh and left for his room to start packing. He was grinning all the way up to the second floor.  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 


	7. Silent night

APOCALYPSE  
  
Disclaimer: No money, not for this, not for anything. If you sue, you'd only get old clothes and an old computer that doesn't even work that well.   
Feedback: YES, YES, YES, YES, and thanks to the people who reviewed so far.   
  
Author's notes: First of all, this chapter is divided in four. Different from previous chapters, this one shows four different perspectives of the same night, in order to let you know where everyone stands. This would be the end of the official first part of the story, or the beginning of the second. It's your call. The first part of the first part (notice the redundancy) is not original, not entirely. I tried to transcribe the first few lines of dialogue of UXM # 341. Of course, that presented a problem. What you'll read is actually a translation of a translation, since my comic books are in Spanish. The rest I wrote on my own, all by myself, I promise. I should apologize in advance. My portray of our beloved, blue and furry doctor will come across lamely, I fear. Dear Dr. McCoy is my Achilles' heel. His speech patterns are too original and genial for me to capture correctly.   
Another thing. There is a new character. Do not fret, she will not interfere with the dynamics of the rest of them. I myself am not a big fan of new characters, but this one was absolutely necessary, and since I created her myself, I kinda like her. :)  
Now read!   
  
CHAPTER SIX:  
  
SILENT NIGHT  
  
The huge christmas tree glittered behind them on Time Square, the atmosphere was merry and the X men known as Beast, Bishop, Cannonball and Joseph, accompanied by the news reporter Trish Tilby, weren't able to ignore the joy around them. That year had been very trying, but they seemed determined to put their troubles aside for one night.   
  
"Considering that this Christmas eve we've decided to distract ourselves from the difficult situation of mutants in general, and the X-men in particular..." stated Dr. Hank McCoy, with a smile on his holographic inducted face. "Who will come to diner with me, holo-inductor included, and the very tempting Trish Tilby?" the young woman blushed slightly and smiled.  
  
"Very tempting?" she whispered. Joseph shook his head tiredly.  
  
"I guess I could come along." He said bitterly. "It's not like I have anything else to do."   
  
The newest addition to the X-men smiled and retrieved a long list from his pocket.   
"I will join you in the restaurant, sir. There's a few things I want to buy for my brothers and sisters. I'll just go to a toy store and buy them. It can't be more than five minutes. See you there!" Sam waved his hands and ran away. Hank smirked.  
  
"Suuure! Five minutes." To Trish he added. "We'll never see him again." She giggled.   
  
The big, intimidating soldier cleared his throat, with a severe, but troubled look on his face.  
"Do I have to think of a polite excuse? Or is it enough to say that with everything that's happened lately, I was hoping to spend the evening by myself?" he said with a little more emotion in his voice than what he was used to.   
With all that had happened that year, he still have a harder time coping with the latest events. He wouldn't admit it, but he'd been a little disappointed when the traitor turned out to be Xavier. Not only because now he didn't quite know his place in the world; though that was what tortured him the most. He had always half expected the traitor to be Gambit. When he learned the truth, he saw the Cajun with new eyes, and found that he was starting to like him. Now, he just didn't know what to think. Had he made a mistake? Would Gambit still betray the X-men, causing their deaths and his future? Somehow the young Cajun didn't strike him to be the traitorous type anymore, but his confession proved him wrong. Didn't it?   
  
"We appreciate your sincerity, Bishop." Hank's voice brought him back to earth.   
  
They said their good byes, and the three remaining headed to the restaurant. The younger man sat down at their table silently, seemingly miles away.   
  
"Why so gloomy, my anticlimactic friend?" Hank asked, holding Trish close to him. Joseph shrugged.  
  
"This is not how I expected my first christmas to be. It is, you know? My first christmas. I don't remember the other ones."   
  
"She'll be back, you know that. Why not try and enjoy this glorious occasion to the best of your ability? I assure you; tomorrow morning, when we open our presents, you'll forget your predicament and be as happy as a toddler." Joseph just shook his head.   
  
"I had a present for her, sort of. But I'm sure she wouldn't want it now. Not from me, anyway."  
  
"Ah, I see you are jealous, my friend. Our own ambassadors of the south go a long way. You cannot expect her to let him go so easily. You must understand..."  
  
"I do." Joseph cut in. Hurt witen all over his face. "She loves him. I can understand that, and I can almost wish her to be happy with him, if it didn't hurt so much. But I don't trust him. Never have. He'll hurt her, I'm sure."   
  
"You don't seem to like our Acadian friend all that much. I can understand that he doesn't provoke the greatest of impressions; but I've known him for an extended period of time now, and I've come to realize that the young man indeed has, under his distorted little mind and presumptuous personality, a good set of ventricles."   
Trish smiled upon seeing Joseph's confused look.   
  
"He has a good heart." she clarified. Hank nodded energetically.  
  
"My sentiments exactly, Trish."  
  
"How can you say he has a good heart?" Joseph asked a little annoyed. "He was involved with Sinister and the massacre! He admitted to it himself!"   
  
"Now, now. Listen to yourself, Joseph. I would be the first one to concede to you that the Cajun has a questionable moral. He is, after all, a thief at heart, if no longer at practice. But would he make that confession to us, even if it was in writing, if he didn't have a conscience? His methods may have been reproachable, leaving like that didn't show him on the best of lights, but his intentions were noble."   
  
Joseph stubbornly shook his head.  
"I don't trust him."  
  
Hank just sighed and redirected his happy and elaborated conversation to a new topic.  
"Do you think Sam will find his way home in the middle of the hell of department stores?"  
  
An explosion was heard from the distance, then another, and both X-men made their way outside, ready for battle. They caught a glimpse of Cannonball and a big, blue guy Hank recognised immediately, bursting out of a hole they'd made on the wall of a shopping mall. Hank lowered his head and sighed in frustration.   
  
"I believe this particular celebration will have to be postponed for another time." Trish hugged him and smiled sadly.  
  
"X-men never rest, right?"  
  
"Precisely." Hank replied, and started towards the scene.   
---------------  
  
The fireplace was on, and Jean cuddled closer to her husband. They'd shared a private candlelight dinner, exchanged a few presents, and now they were just enjoying each other's company. Still, Scott didn't seem to be able to relax,   
  
"This is nice." She said, and rested her head on his shoulder. He tightened his embrace.  
  
"It is indeed." He whispered, kissing her forehead. "I was grateful of the opportunity of spending this particular christmas alone with you. God bless Hank."  
  
"Yes, I agree wholeheartedly. We need a rest, a time out. After all that's happened."  
  
"I still can't believe it." his tone showed his frustration. "The professor's gone, Gambit's gone. After Onslaught I knew things would never be the same, but this is ridiculous."   
  
Jean frowned.  
"Aren't you glad he's gone? Gambit, I mean." Scott sighed and shook his head no.  
  
"Jean, of all people, you were the last one I expected to be acting like this. Why are you so angry with him?"   
  
They had discussed it to exhaustion. She understood that it had been a mistake of his past, that they had to wait to hear his explanation, but she still seemed to hold a deeper grudge than even Storm herself, who was starting to come around. Jean shook her head.  
  
"I don't know Scott. I trusted him, you know? I really liked him. Why didn't he trust us?"   
  
"I can't answer that for him, but I can imagine a few reasons. It was obvious from his letter that he feels guilty about what happened. If things happened the way he said they did, it must have been really hard for him to cope with what he'd done."  
  
"But why didn't he trust us?! Didn't we show him that we were trustable?"  
  
Scott smiled. His wife might have been shutting him out of her mind, but he needn't to read her thoughts to know what was happening. After all, he knew her better than anyone. He cupped her face and spoke to her in his kindest tone.  
  
"Sweetheart, is that it? Is that why you are so mad at him? Or is it that you are mad at yourself for not showing him enough that you were trusty?" he cheered inwardly seeing her shocked face, followed by recognition and a shy smile.  
  
"When did you become a psychologist?" she teased.   
  
"I just know you very well. I love you." he leaned towards her, and kissed her softly on the lips.   
  
"You're still worried, though." She said when the kiss broke. Scott sighed.  
  
"How wouldn't I be? Gambit takes off mysteriously, Logan and Rogue are following him to god knows where, Warren is acting funnier than usual. And it's all on my shoulders. Not to mention my brother going crazy. No! I can't have personal problems, not if I'm the leader of the X-men! Now I understand the professor going nuts and murderous." Jean laughed.  
  
"They aren't making it easy on you, are they?"   
  
"No, they absolutely aren't." He pouted. She laughed again and hugged him tight.  
  
"My poor baby. I'm glad to know how much you care about them, though. If anyone is up to replace the professor, that's you honey. And he knew that."  
  
"I'm not so sure anymore. But thank you."  
  
They enjoyed the rest of the evening in silence, relieving on the peace around them and the peace the other would bring to their hearts.   
----------------  
  
The jeep parked outside the motel, but neither of them got down. Rogue stared at the clouded sky, watching the snowflakes falling to the ground. Logan, for his part, was lighting a cigar and taking in the air's scent. Rogue huffed.  
  
"Ye know we ain't gonna find him like this, doncha? Ah told ya we should have brought the blackbird. We don't even know where he went! How are we supposed to find him?! Why didn't ya let me ask Jean to use Cerebro to look for him?"   
  
Logan grinned.  
  
"Ya don't understand it, doncha kid?"  
  
"What do ya mean?"  
  
"I do know where he went, at least, what road he took. This way I can follow his scent. I wouldn't be able to do that on the blackbird. Ya heard Jean, kid. Gumbo has a powerful mind. Most likely, Cerebro wouldn't find him; and even if it did, I don't want the others knowing where he is. It's better if we let them cool of a little."   
She sighed.  
  
"Well, now that makes sense."  
  
"'Course it does. I always do." He said smugly. Rogue's eyes flashed thunder.  
  
"Ah'll erase that stupid grin of yer face in a second, Wolverine! Ye seem to be having a great time, 'ere in the middle of nowhere! Why, it's very amusing to be spending Christmas eve in a sleazy motel with the likes of ya! I would have found him already if I didn't have to carry ye along!" she spat. He laughed.   
  
"Girl's got a temper, that's fer sure. I'll buy ya a present if ya behave, kid."  
  
"Why did ye come anyway?! Ah told ya, ye ain't hurting him, ah ain't letting ya get yer dirty claws on him." For the first time since they left the mansion, Logan's face lost the amused look, and he frowned.  
  
"I won't hurt Gumbo, kid. I...I needed to come along. I don't know why, I just did." Rogue sank in her seat.  
  
"Why? What do ye want with him?" she didn't sound angry anymore, but truly interested.  
  
"Told ya, I don't know. Maybe he has the answer for that. I have the feeling he does."  
  
"Ye too, eh?" she sighed. He looked up at her, startled.  
  
"'Me too', what kid? What are ya talkin' about?"   
She bit her lip.  
  
"Since Israel...well, Ah've had all this dreams Ah couldn't understand. Now they're starting to make sense. We have to find him, ye know? He needs me."  
  
"I know kid. Don't ask me how I know it, but I do. I have to take ye to him, and I will. Safe and in one piece."  
  
They both remained silent, staring at the sky and snow. Finally, Rogue smiled at Logan and spoke.  
  
"About that gift, sugah. What will ye get me?"  
  
"How 'bout an annoying Cajun with a red bow around his neck?"  
  
"Sounds good to me, Logan. Merry Christmas, ye know?" she said sweetly.  
  
"Marry christmas, kid. Now lets go check in before we both turn into pathetic imitations of an ice cube."  
  
"OH! That reminds me, we should call Bobby to wish him a merry christmas, with his dad and all."  
  
"Ya call Bobby, I'll call 'Ro."  
  
"Deal!"   
  
They picked up their duffel bags and slowly walked into the motel.  
------------   
  
He'd made it to Chicago in record time. Barely stopping on the way for gas, food, and distressed sleep. He wasn't tired though. Nor hungry. It was as if a force bigger than his own was giving him strength to go on.   
  
Now that he was where he thought he supposed to be, he let himself rest. He was still a little baffled about how much control he had over his new powers. The empathy he understood. It was just his charm power with a little more strength. But now he was telekinetic and telepathic too. God only knew why.  
He'd practiced reading people's minds on one of the stops he'd made. He wasn't really interested on Jimbo, the gas station's cafeteria guy and the hidden depths of his mind. They were limited to dirty fantasies about the blonde at the counter. The blonde's thoughts were more interesting, since they were about him and a certain part of his own anatomy. But he was pleased to notice that he had complete control over his new ability as well as his anatomy.  
Now he was unpacking his clothes on the bed of his new residency entirely with his mind. It didn't even cost him. It was almost natural for him. He grinned a little smugly, watching in amazement while the clothes folded themselves with no effort on his part. He could feel the power growing inside of him. He started imagining all the uses he could have given those abilities during his thieving days, but shook his head.  
  
"Dat would 've been too borin'."   
  
The itch that he'd always carried, the one that made him ache for a little game, returned with a vengeance.  
  
"Mebbe Remy could go check de attractions of dis city. Mebbe stop to admire a little art at de museum, mebbe take some art home, non?" he smiled excitedly and grabbed his coat.   
He needed a distraction. If he stopped long enough to think, he knew where his thoughts would drift to, and he refused to get sentimental. His first impulse when reaching his room had been to call Stormy and Rogue, but he knew it wasn't his place anymore. He'd lost that right. Then he thought about calling Jean-Luc. He was still debating on that, and he would have done it, if that hadn't reminded him that he did not have a family to celebrate christmas with anymore. But he was pushing those thoughts away. What he couldn't push away was the feeling that something was amiss.   
He'd left his friends, his love and his home, doing what he'd thought was right; but since he'd left, he'd had the feeling that he was missing something, something of the grand plan someone had made for him. And the first thing that always popped to his head was Rogue.   
  
"I couldn' ask her to come wit' me...not dat she would have after knowin' what I am, but..."   
It had been the danger he sensed in his future. He wasn't dumb, he knew that he was going to face something that was probably too much for him. He also knew he had no choice, but he wasn't putting Rogue through it. No matter how much he felt he needed her. He wasn't hurting anyone anymore.  
  
The streets were packed with people carrying gifts. There were lights everywhere he looked. The city streets screamed christmas right to his face. He smiled inwardly. Who'd have thought that the cynical street kid, who wouldn't have hesitated on picking Santa's pocket if he'd had the chance, would have ever get such a thrill for the merry season? It had became his favorite time of the year. He wasn't even affected with the holidays' depression everyone else talked about. Not even now, lonely and on a strange place. He'd had his share of bitter christmases to last him for a life time.   
The singing group of people in the opposite corner, filling the street with their carolling, lifted his spirits. He leaned on a building's wall and listened contently.   
He was too absorbed on the perfectly performed, harmonic version of 'Silent night' to notice the young kid running directly towards him. He was thoroughly startled when the kid bumped into him and caused him to fall flat on his behind in the middle of the street. He did get to see the retreating figure of what he couldn't decide if it was a boy or a girl, running away with something familiar in their hand. The young kid was dressed entirely in black, matching their shoulder length hair. The slim, long, black trench coat floated around the kid, giving them a surreal look. He felt the impulse to follow them, but the kid was too far away, running too fast for even him to catch up. He considered stopping them with his mind, but something inside of him told him it would be futile. He only managed to yell.  
  
"Hey, watch were y'r goin!" the kid turned around and stopped. It was obvious now that it was a girl. She looked at him from the other corner of the block, and he gasped. Even from such a great distance he could tell her eyes were silver and they sparkled reflecting the street lights. She surveyed what she had in her hand for a second, and then she threw it his way, with a smug smile on her face.  
  
"Thanks so much, Mr. LeBeau!" she shouted in a thick British accent. He patted his pocket and noticed that his wallet was missing. He gasped again. She had stole *HIS* wallet?! "And merry christmas, mate!" she said. He ran after her, but she was soon out of sight.   
He picked up his wallet and scanned it. His money, credit cards, everything was still there. The only thing that seemed to have been removed and placed back hastily was his driver's license.  
  
"I'm goin' to find y', petite. None steels from Remy and leaves in one piece." He said to himself with not real venom in his voice. He was actually thrilled, feeling that itch returning. The game was afoot.   
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 


	8. The guardian

APOCALYPSE  
  
Disclaimer: I own Sidney, you can't take that away from me :P The rest, including the money, is Marvel's.  
  
CHAPTER SEVEN:  
  
THE GUARDIAN  
  
Christmas came and went. There were still a few decorations on the streets, and Remy figured that some of the shop's owners were either on vacation or just plain lazy.   
In the three days he'd been in Chicago he'd spent every breathing second on the streets, looking for the kid that had outwitted him. He, Remy Etienne LeBeau, a master thief, being mugged by a cocky teenager. It was outrageous.  
Of course he knew that wasn't the reason he needed so desperately to find her, but he didn't want to think about that. He didn't want to think about the pressure in his chest. The feeling that time was running out. So he kept his mind on the hunt.   
His feet hurt, so he stopped searching for the girl and started looking for a café where he could rest his aching muscles.   
He settled for a small place that immediately caught his attention. The name of the café was "Angel's" and he remembered his dreams. It may have been just a coincidence, he thought, but he wasn't taking any chances. The place was pleasant, if nothing else. There weren't many patrons, but he used his empathy to check them all up and make sure there wasn't any danger for himself there. Just like he did with everyone else he'd encounter.   
He feared that he was loosing his mind. He was obviously acting paranoid. Maybe everything that was happening was merely a product of his deluded imagination. After all, hadn't he accepted it all rather quickly? If he considered all that had happened to him, he wouldn't be able to say that it had been so uneventful so, for him to have given it little to no thought, until that moment in that quiet café, was a little confusing. He hadn't questioned it, he'd acepted it as natural. Why?   
His breathing quickened a little. Was he out of his mind? Maybe he wasn't even in Chicago, maybe he was locked in a padded room.   
The waiter approached him wearily and gave him a strange look when he saw the sunglasses, but Remy took no notice of this; he was used too it. The waiter, however, decided to wave a hand infront of his face, surely thinking he was blind. Remy caught his hand in mid-air and grinned at him.  
  
"I can see bien, mon ami." The startled young man smiled nervously and begun babbling.  
  
"I'm very sorry, sir. It's just...well, it's night and..." Remy waved his hands, never loosing the grin.  
  
"Is ok, homme. I understand." The waiter retrieved his notepad and cleared his throat,  
  
"What can I get you. sir?"  
  
"I'll have a..." Remy didn't get to finish the sentence. His eyes wide with horror as he felt sadism and murderous rage washing over him.   
  
"Sir? Mister, are you alright?" the young man asked, but Remy didn't hear him. His attention was focused on the man walking through the door.   
Victor Creed, also known as Sabertooth, stood there, with a sly grin on his face, staring directly at him.   
Before he could slam him against a wall, or use his newly acquired telekinesis to get him out of that place filled with innocent people, Creed had seized a young woman by the neck, threatening to slice her neck open if he dared move. The rest of the patrons ran desperately towards the exits,   
Remy then thought about using his telepathy to numb Creed. He'd shut his empathy down, unable to bare the young woman's fear, so he didn't sense the intentions of the person moving swiftly behind him. He, however, had sensed the movement, and he'd turned around in time to see Harpoon's delighted face as he placed a Genosha collar on him. He saw Creed approaching him, still holding his hostage by the neck, though the girl wasn't fighting anymore, having passed out from fear. Remy understood that first hand. He was growing a little nervous himself. Creed leaned inches away from his face, but Remy held his gaze arrogantly.   
  
"Ye better stay calmed and cooperate with us, Cajun, or this frail dies."  
Remy managed to smile.   
  
"What can Remy do for y'?" he asked, as if he was asking for a haircut.   
  
"Sinister said you'd be here. The boss requires yer presence, and I ain't disappointing the boss. Wanna hear the best part?" Creed said menacingly. Remy nodded, not showing the monster he was growing scared. Even though he knew the monster could smell it on him.  
  
"S'ill vous plait, mon ami, I wouldn' like to miss de best part."   
  
"I don't have to get ya there in one piece. So don't be surprised if ye loose a limb or two on the way, bub." He whispered, his toothy grin widening.   
  
Harpoon grabbed him by the arm and lifted him from his seat, pushing him towards the back of the café. Remy studied his chances of escaping. But Creed hadn't released the woman, and without his powers, though he was still fast, he wasn't fast enough to save her. He decided to play along and figure a way out later. He cursed under his breath while he was lead through the emergency exit. He'd left so that no one else would get hurt, and he'd knew Creed wouldn't let the woman live after he was through with him. Knowing that didn't make him try to escape, though. If the woman had to die, it wasn't going to be because of him. Not directly, anyway.   
He gasped, giving himself a mental kick, after noticing how often he'd been gasping lately. The alley behind the café was exactly like the one in his dreams. He shivered.  
  
"Scared, bub?" Creed laughed, and Harpoon slammed him against the wall. Remy just smiled.  
  
"Should we wait for the boss here, Creed? Can I kill him?" Harpoon asked. Creed smacked his head with his free hand.  
  
"Told ya, ye ass, the boss said we should keep the Cajun alive, if not whole. Ye can torture him a little, if ya want, but save some fer me. WE have to wait fer Sinister here."   
  
Harpoon seemed please with the suggestion, and Remy braced himself, shutting his eyes close.  
  
"Now, now. I don't think it's very chilvarous of you to hold a lady like that." a familiar voice spoke loud enough for them to hear, but not enough to be considered a shout.   
Harpoon dropped him to the ground. Remy opened his eyes and looked for the owner of the voice. Sure enough, though through the shadows she was just a contour, he could see the glittering silver eyes, and the black trench coat that floated around her. He was confused though. He'd half expected her to be like in his dream, but he realized she wasn't the one who he'd seen. Shining eyes and all, it wasn't her.   
Remy didn't waste any time with that thought, and while Harpoon charged towards the mysterious girl, he jumped on a distracted Creed, who loosened the grip on his victim, and fell to the ground. But in the process, Creed managed to wound Remy on the leg with his claws, shredding it. Remy recoiled on a corner, holding the young girl close, waiting for Creed to get up and kill them both. His leg was bleeding profusely, but the cut was too deep for him to feel any pain yet, and he was thankful for that.  
  
"Run, petite!" he shouted, hoping the cocky teenager would realize she was in danger. He knew first hand the girl could run.  
  
Creed did get up and almost did what Remy had expected him to do, if it hadn't been for the yelp of horror coming from Harpoon. Remy looked their way and saw that the girl had stabbed Harpoon with a huge sword he hadn't seen her carrying. When the girl withdrew the sword, he watched Harpoon's lifeless body fall to the ground with a thud. The sword, he thought, was magnificent. It was like one of those swords he'd seen in the museums he'd robbed. He recognized the period. It was medieval, the kind that was reserved for kings and knights, and it was real. What was a girl so young doing with a sword that big and heavy? Not to mention she seemed to know how to use it.   
Creed stood between them, shifting his eyes from the girl to Remy, as if trying to decide who'd die first. The woman in Remy's arms made that choice for him, because she woke up and started screaming and kicking in horror. She pulled herself away from him and begun running, but was caught by the neck again. She screamed some more, until Creed put his free, furry hand over her mouth.  
  
"Well, what's it gonna be? I dunno who ye are, but if ye let me take my friend here and go, I'll let the frail live." Was that the sound of Creed, scared? Remy was almost certain of it. The girl laughed amusedly.   
  
"What about this? The offspring makes your head explode, and I don't even have to get me sword dirty again."   
Both Remy and Creed looked around confusedly, looking for someone else, and the girl groaned.  
  
"Shit! I can't believe this! You stupid arse, you are the offspring!" she signaled towards Remy.  
  
"Eh? I ain' no offsprin'!" his voice came high-pitched. She rolled her eyes.  
  
"Listen to me, mate. Burst his head, now! I cannot slice him to bits as I'd like, 'cause he'd kill the girl!"  
  
"I can' do dat!" Remy shouted frustrated.  
  
"Sure you can. what, are you getting sentimental about this sheep?!"  
  
"I ain' got my powers!"  
  
"Sure you do!"  
  
"Non!"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
Creed spoke up, reminding them both of the situattion.  
  
"Well. I guess this is very interesting, but I'll still leave you to sort it out yerselves. I'll see ye soon, bub."   
  
Creed threw the girl at Remy, who catched her in time before both of them got hurt. The monster ran away, and so did the woman, screaming curses at the three of them. To say that Remy was surprised would have been an understatement. This young girl had made Sabertooth run!   
Shouldn't he be running himself? He certainly would have, when he caught the glimpse of her coming towards him slowly, clenching the bloody sword with one hand, but his leg chose that moment to throb in unbearable pain.   
The girl knelt down beside him, looking pissed off. It was the first time he'd seen her face so close, and he noticed an ugly scar on the left side of her face. It was a clean, oblique cut, that hardened the expression of her features, that were rather delicate. All in all, she couldn't be more than fourteen.  
He was feeling faint, so he grabbed her by the wrist weakly to catch her attention. She glared at him angrily.  
  
"What, mate? Can't you see I'm busy?" he gulped.  
  
"Who are y'?"   
  
"I'm Gamma, the last of the guardians of the prophecy, and you are a bloody asshole." she spat.  
  
"I don' understand." He whispered weakly. Her face softened, and she flashed him a cocky smile.   
  
"You are a slow little bugger, aren't you? Ok, for now, I'm just Sidney. Is that bettah?" Remy smiled.  
  
"Oui. T'ank y' for savin' me an' the femme, Sidney." His voice was almost inaudible at the end.   
  
"Hey, mate, don't thank me. That's me job." She pressed the cloth that she had been tying around his wounds, and he felt his eyes rolling backwards before he passed out.  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 


	9. Wings

APOCALYPSE  
  
Disclaimer: this is all marvel's, except for the plot and Sidney.  
  
Author's notes: Ok, bad news, my computer is dead. It'll take me a little longer to post the upcoming chapters, but they will come. Don't loose interest on me, please! (sob, sob)  
  
Feedback: yes, I can still see if you reviewed, so do it!   
  
CHAPTER EIGHT:  
  
WINGS  
  
Warren Worthington the third was a man used to class and style. He had grown up amongst the finest things in life. His father had been a powerful man, and his father before him. And he would have been a liar if he'd said he didn't enjoy the privileged spot life had chosen for him.   
He was a lucky man, always had been not only was he one of the richest men alive, but he had been blessed with great friends, and a gorgeous girlfriend.   
But none of this things were enough to make him happy. Specially considering that now he felt he was loosing all his friends; what with Bobby taking a leave of abscense from the X men and Hank disappearing along with Bishop, Joseph, Trish and Sam without leaving a trace of their whereabouts. And Betsy; the connection that had led him to believe they were destined for each other was faltering. He didn't know where they stood anymore.   
That was his fault, he knew it. He wasn't himself as of late. Recent events had opened old wounds and he was shutting her out. But she was acing strange too.  
  
On that particular night though, the X men once known as Angel, was beginning to remember what happiness felt like. Like every single night since he'd gotten his wings back, Warren had taken all his sorrows and pain, up to the sky with him.  
Flying over the city lights, feeling the wind on his face and pretending he was thirteen again. No worries, no X-men, no Betsy; just sky.  
Yes, he was starting to remember.  
Those nightly flights reminded him of who he really was; of the man he'd thought had died on he Morlocks' tunnels so long ago.   
Deep inside of him he knew Apocalypse would expect something in return for his wings. The External wasn't exactly famous for his generosity. Warren also knew that he'd rather die than to work for Apocalypse again. So, he'd decided to use the bliss he'd been given as much as he could. He's fly until he'd drop out of sheer exhaustion.  
He felt a little disgusted with himself. He couldn't help to feel grateful towards Apocalypse. It was confusing, and unnerving. It was what tortured him the most. He was grateful to that monster on one hand, and hated a teammate on the other.  
  
"He's not a teammate anymore." He said to none. "Everyone knows he's a traitor, just like I do. I won't ever have to see his face again."  
  
Something in that statement wasn't quite right. He was lying to himself, and he knew it. He knew Rogue and Wolverine would find the Cajun. He knew Scott would never turn his back on any mutant who showed enough repent. Hadn't Scott accepted the one and only Magneto to the team?   
Why couldn't Scott see that things weren't as they were? Warren had always secretly considered the professor's decision of bringing new mutants to the team to be a mistake.   
It was too naïve of him to think that everyone would eventually share his dream. That every mutant, no matter what was his past, could understand it.  
Yet, though Warren knew it was stupid to expect the rest of the world to get it, he'd shared the dream. He'd fought for it. He'd given his life to see it come true.  
He'd accepted the new ones, even though some of them had questionable backgrounds. And time had proved him right.  
Why, after so much proof, didn't Scott realize it had been a mistake?  
  
He'd been flying for so long he didn't know where he was anymore. He knew how to find his way back to his penthouse, but he needed to rest a little before taking on the skies again. Around him, all he could see was green. Trees, grass, life. He put his problems aside and smiled. He was free; free and grateful. Grateful to Apocalypse, to God, to whoever he needed to thank for getting his life back.  
  
"Thank you." He whispered.  
  
"You are welcome." Echoed a voice behind him, and Warren spun around, recognizing the voice immediately. It was the brown man who'd given him his wings back. Apocalypse's messenger.   
Warren wanted to scream, to cry; to kill the bastard that ruined his existence. He wasn't so sure it that had been Apocalypse or Gambit, though.  
  
"What do you want?!" he snapped. The brown man remained unexpressive.   
  
"It's time for you to pay your debt for the gift the master has granted you. The one that makes slaves out of kings commands you..." Warren blinked a few times, outraged, and laughed a little too nervously.  
  
"Well! You can go back, making sure the towel you have in your head doesn't fall, and tell him to forget about it. I'm never working for him again. Do you hear me?!" the man didn't even flinch.   
  
"Are you implying that you refuse to obey?"  
  
"Dam right I'm refusing!"  
  
"You are aware of the fact that what was given to you can be taken away, aren't you?" Warren's anger was rising with each word the man uttered.  
  
"I don't care! Don't you understand?! You can take my wings back, you can take my fucking life if you want! But I won't le Apocalypse take my soul ever again!"  
  
The man smiled, patronizingly.  
"You are a survivor, Angel. Your passion surprises me. But your energy is misguided. Apocalypse is the beginning and the end. The only possible future. And he's chosen you, Angel. He wants you by his side."  
  
Warren was livid.  
"Are you deaf, or just plain stupid?! That pathetic, megalomaniac piece of shit is nothing! Nothing!"  
  
The man shook his head and faked confusion; though not all that well, Warren noted.  
"I don't understand. Your friend told us you'd be the first to accept the truth."  
  
'What the hell is he talking about?!' Warren thought, but only managed to say.  
"My friend?"  
  
"Yes. Smart mortal, if I've ever seen one. Apocalypse saw the potential in him when he was working for one of his followers, and made his powers more acute. The young man didn't even wait for us to come to him, hat he'd already left the X-men to join us. I think even the master was surprised!" the man laughed, and Warren's eyes widened in recognition.  
  
"Gambit?" he whispered.  
  
"Yes, that's the one." The man answered deviously. "And he's become so powerful that he's already one of the Lord's favorites."  
  
"I knew it! That fucking traitor!"  
  
"You still refuse to come with us, Angel? Even when one of your own has seen the truth?"   
  
Warren walked slowly to the brownish man and spoke inches away from his face, putting all the hate, resentment and disgust he was feeling in each word.  
"You can give Apocalypse a message from me. I will make sure that his *favorite* dies a painful and slow death. Your *master* better kill me if he plans on staying in this planet, because I may not be able to kill him, but I'll make sure he wishes I could. And I'll start with that traitorous son of a bitch. Gambit *will* die. I'll never work for apocalypse again!"  
  
Warren spread his wings and flew away. He was terrified. Bracing himself for the pain that never came. No one took his wings, or his life. And he was proud of himself, because he had kept his soul as well.   
He was going to avenge every single victim of the Cajun.  
  
Far in the woods, while he watched Archangel fly away, The messenger of Apocalypse smiled.  
"Whatever you say, mortal. Whatever you say."  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 


	10. Answers

APOCALYPSE  
  
Disclaimer: not mine.-  
  
Author's notes: sorry about the delay. Promise I won't take so long for the next one. Hope I didn't make a mess of this, and that you enjoy.  
  
CHAPTER NINE:  
  
ANSWERS  
  
For the past few days, Remy had woken up in a different room every morning. It always took him a while to gather his surroundings, but eventually he'd realize where he was, once the drowsiness of restless sleep would pass. This time though, he felt particularly numbed. His leg hurt, he was sure he had a fever and the bed was definitively the most uncomfortable bed he'd ever slept in. The room was too dark and dismal even for him to see anything that might have given him a clue of where he was. But what really threw him of balance was the warm body snuggled behind him. Contrary to the rumors, Remy wasn't all that used to spending the night with strangers, especially strangers he had no memory of even meeting. He had a vague recollection of fighting Sabertooth the night before, but he wasn't so sure of that being nothing more than another one of his dreams. His throbbing limb somewhat confirmed it, though. He took hold of the thin arm wrapped around his waist. He'd turned around to look at it's owner's face, but laying on his severed leg was out of the question. Up close, he could see the delicate, small hand. The skin was so white it was almost fluorescent. Around one of it's long fingers, there was a ring that made his blood run cold. The first thing he thought was that it looked like some kind of flower, but then decided it was more of a cross with a superposed X on it. There was a stone at each end of it. Two onyx stones, two rubies, two amber stones and two emeralds; each at the opposite end of it's pair. The ring itself was platinum. The thief in him knew it was somewhat valuable in monetary terms, but something inside him told him it's real worth laid somewhere else. HE struggled to get onto his back to see his companions face. Inwardly, he already knew who it was, so he wasn't surprised when he saw her young face, half covered with her impossible black hair, mused from sleep. Sleep that made her look not a day over ten, and a lot more peaceful and sweet than what he remembered her being. Sidney, he recalled it was her name. As soon as he threatened to get up to inspect the place, she imprisoned him further, snuggling closer and letting out a soft whimper. He managed to replace himself with a pillow and threw the moth-eaten comforter aside. A little sigh of relief escaped his lips, when out of habit he checked for clothing on both of them, and found that, though his pants had been removed with the obvious purpose of bandaging his leg, both of them were pretty much dressed. After a little search in the absolute darkness, he thanked the lord above for finding a candle next to her side of the small cot and lit it with his fingers. The warm light bathed it all, allowing him to look for a way out. The room was incredibly small. There was barely enough room for the cot and a tin set of stairs. He considered his wounds, but still took the chance and climbed it, using mostly his hands, but not before he'd tugged the child back under the blanket and placed the candle on the floor next to the stairs. Lifting the lid and passing threw it proved to be a little more complicated, but after enough effort, he finally succeeded. He was surprised to find sunlight hurting his eyes and had to close his eyes to adjust to the brightness. Remy found himself in a ruin of a room that seemed to have been the library at some point. The windows were broken, spider webs pretty much covered it all and most of the empty shelves where broken or burned. There was one though, that was clean, whole, and packed with books. He limped his way to it. There were books all sizes and colors, but mostly hardcover, old editions. HE rummaged through the titles, finding that it was some sort of occultism collection. There were all about dark magic and mythology, some of them he'd even seen in Tante Mattie's bookcase. He smiled when he found a worn out version of "Little women" hidden between the other books, reminding him that his savior was nothing but a kid. In the center of the bookcase was a book that had the same symbol of the girl's ring on it's back. As far as he knew, it was the oldest book there; he was even surprised to see that it was intact. He hesitated for a moment about grabbing it, but then shrugged. He found it too tempting to consider that he might have not liked what he was about to read. Sliding onto the dirty floor, he opened it. But before he had a chance to glance at the first page, a loud thud made him look up.  
  
"Bloody hell!" she yelled, and he shuddered. "What on earth do you think you're doing, mate?! You bleeding lunatic. What, you want to get killed?!" Remy blinked confusedly while she fought with the laces of her military boots.  
  
"Killed? What are y' talkin' 'bout, petite?" He knew there was danger, he could feel it. He also knew that girl knew what that danger was.  
  
"You never, ever, get out of me sight again, you hear me, frog?" He nodded.  
  
"D'accord, petite."  
  
"So..." she sat next to him and glanced at the book he was holding. "What, your momma never told you not to go through someone else's stuff, mate?"  
  
"Y' have a very interestin' collection of books 'ere. Are dey all y'rs?" he asked, waving the copy of "Little women on her face. She winced and started fighting him for it.  
  
"Gimme that! Me mom gave it to me, let go!" Remy smiled triumphal, but returned the book to it's rightful owner.  
  
"Y'r mere? Where is she? She must be real worried 'bout y', petite." he said tenderly. Sidney looked down.  
  
"She's dead." she said deadpan, but Remy heard the pain in her voice nonetheless.  
  
"Je suis desole, petite." he said kindly.  
  
"Forget about it frog. And yes, the books are all mine. I've been taking care of this place on me own for two years now. As you can see, it has been trying."  
  
"Mais, y'r so young!" Remy felt sorry for her. He knew what it was like to be alone and helpless at such a tender age.  
  
"Hey mate! I'm thirteen, I ain't no baby, ok?" she smiled smugly. Remy shook his head.  
  
"Mais, someone helps y'. non? Wit' food an' money, takes care of y'?" she snorted.  
  
"Mate, I'm richer than you'll ever be. My order goes a long way, and they were very prepared for any eventuality. But now that the time's coming, the beast has been busy killing us all so we wouldn't find you. That's all. I'm living like a bloody rat 'cause I have to stay alive until the ascension."  
  
"Y'r order? The beast? The ascension? Petite, Remy doesn' know what y'r sayin'."  
  
Sidney sighed and shook her head sadly. "This is what I've feared. I was hoping that some of the guardians would have escaped long enough to find you and let you know. Being as I'm the only one left, I had to stay here, where the ascension will take place. Besides, every bit of information that the guardians had on you, was lost the last time they attacked the caves, so I was completely in the dark. If you don't know, that means the second offspring doesn't either, and I only have four days to find it."  
  
"I don' know what y'r talking 'bout, petite." But he did, in a way. It was like having all the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. It was just a matter of trying to put them together, and the girl was the start. She acquire a formal posture, and spoke as if she were reciting a poem.  
  
"Well, there's this prophecy that the guardians have sworn to protect and see through. For thousands of years, as long as the beast existed, the prophesy was kept a secret until the sign of the new era, that would announce the beginning of the end." Remy waved his hands to stop her.  
  
"It all sounds very nice, petite, but y'll have to go a little slower. What are de guardians?"  
  
"Warriors, knights if you will. And don't call me petite, mate, I'm Gamma, the last guardian of the."  
  
"Thought y'r name was Sidney." Remy interrupted, scratching his head. She smiled.  
  
"It is. C'mon, you won't tell me you don't have a nickname now, will you?" he smiled sheepishly.  
  
"Oui, I do. It's Gambit." She went pale. "What?" he asked, concerned. She shrugged.  
  
"Are you a chess fan?" he shook his head no.  
  
"More of a card person, me. Why?"  
  
"Why would you name yourself after a play of chess that means sacrificing one piece for a bigger purpose?" she asked softly. He smirked.  
  
"I jus' thought it was suave, petite. Dat's me, y' know? De suave one." He said smugly and she burst out laughing.  
  
"You're funny, frog. And I told you, don't call me petite." Remy went serious.  
  
"Dat's what y' are! Y'r so young and y' shouldn' be mixed up wit' dis. I don' really know what's goin' on, but I know is too dangerous for a chile like y'." she shifted uncomfortably.  
  
"Well frog, it's not like I have a choice, is it? I'm the only one left to guide you to the beast and protect you until the ascension." Remy laughed.  
  
"I know where de bete is. I can take y' dere. I'm sure y'd like him" he joked, but she just stared blankly at him. Finally she seemed to remember something and frowned.  
  
"Why did you get out of the shelter without waking me up mate? The beast must know I've found you. That sheep probably told him by know." Remy shrugged.  
  
"I woke up in dat little room downstairs, didn' know where I was." Then he smiled coyly and added. "Y' seemed to enjoy usin' Remy as a pillow, petite." She gasped.  
  
"I SO did not!" Remy smirked.  
  
"Y' did not enjoy it, or used Remy as a pillow?"  
  
"Either!" she yelled, swatting his arm.  
  
"Hey, I don blame y'! Remy is irresistible." He laughed smugly, but she seemed offended.  
  
"I was not using you as a pillow, you lousy git! But that's the only bed, and I wasn't about to sleep on the floor because you were too bloody stupid to go and let that sheep live!" he frowned at the memory.  
  
"I had a collar on! I'd gotten rid of de monster if I could."  
  
"What has that got to do with anything?!" she huffed.  
  
"Y' know powers don' work when y' have a Genosha collar on, don' y'?" she sighed and shook her head.  
  
"There's a lot I need to explain to you mate. But first." she patted his wounded leg, and he winced. "You have to heal, 'cause." Remy's eyes opened to their fullest, feeling someone's presence in the house. "What?" she asked curiously.  
  
"Someone's here." He whispered. He was shocked to see Sidney's eyes changing from silver to red. She stared at the opposite wall and nodded.  
  
"I guess I'll have to ask y' about y'r powers too, eh?"  
  
Sidney moved silently and cautiously to the bookcase, and from one of the books she retrieved a pair of twin daggers, as exquisite as the sword he'd seen her use the night before.  
  
"Stay here, do not move." She whispered in an imperative tone. He shook his head.  
  
"I can defend myself, petite. How many are dey? I t'ink dey're two, but."  
  
"Yes, I can see them, now, stay." He cursed under his breath.  
  
She moved to the front door and from then on, all he could hear was metal on metal and growling. He gathered a few books to charge, leaving the one he'd picked up earlier aside. He knew he couldn't destroy that one. Ignoring her request, he limped towards the door, ready to put up a fight; but he wasn't ready for what he found on the other side.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 


	11. The right track

APOCALYPSE  
  
Disclaimer: I'm getting kinda tired of putting this on every chapter, go see it on the other ones. Author's notes: yes, another cliff hanger. And if so little people keep reviewing the chapters, all of them will have cliff hangers, he, he, he. What, does the story sucks now or something? Tell me the truth, you lost interest, right? Never mind, if you think it sucks, I'm gonna finish it just to piss you off. (jk) Enjoy.  
  
CHAPTER TEN:  
  
THE RIGHT TRACK  
  
Rogue had to admit it. The nightmares she'd thought were a result of the remains of Remy's psyche in her mind, were more frequent and bizarre, hence she wasn't getting much sleep a of late. They'd lost two days 'cause Logan had taken the wrong turn a couple of times and they had lost two tires already. Logan was a quiet travel companion, and there were times she'd swear she would die of sheer boredom. But all in all, she loved being on the road. She would never feel as free, going were the wind would take her. In this case it was more than a figured speech; the two wrong turns had been a result of a change in the direction of the wind. Quiet as he was, Logan was always a pleasant company; and though he might have been less fun than Bobby, he was also a lot less whiny. She was liking this trip far more so than the last one. Mainly because, while in the first one she'd been running from something, now she was running towards something; a destination. Curiously enough, she mused, in both opportunities the one that had gotten her running had been Remy. She felt a tingle of guilt, remembering how she'd left him in a coma after a kiss she was having a harder time forgetting than the memories she'd absorbed w as a result of it. And what had she done after that? She took off and left him when she should have staid by his side. After all that had happened between them; after his confession, she recognized Remy's influence in her actions. From day one, and as much as he'd professed his love for her, Remy LeBeau had kept her at a distance. Now she could understand why, but it still pissed her of that he wouldn't trust her enough. It wasn't as if she didn't have a past of her own. She'd worked with Mystique, and knowing very well was she was doing; unlike him with Sinister. But with that kiss, he'd given her everything; he'd given himself completely, thinking he'd die. And with the package came his self-hate, the disgust he felt for himself and the sins of his past, and his desire to keep everyone away from him. She shivered. If she'd done that when she didn't have a real reason; if she'd abandoned him when her feelings and her memories were as confusing and hard to understand as they had been, mostly sensing his love for her on top of the rest. What would she have done if the situation hadn't been so favorable for him? If she'd known what those memories meant, if he'd wanted to die.  
  
"Hey kid..." came Logan's laconic voice. She diverted her eyes from the side of the road and her thoughts from scary possibilities, focusing both on him. "I think we're there, see?" he pointed to the contour of a city and the dark, smoggy cloud above it that broke with the pure air of the countryside. She'd been too absorbed by her thoughts to have any idea of the suburbs of what city they were starting to transit and her eyes were too heavy to try and make sense of the map.  
  
"Ok, we're there..." she begun. "And there would be...?" she motioned with her hands for him to continue.  
  
"Chicago." He said without turning around to look at her. For the last few days, she'd noted, Logan had turned into some sort of Zen master. Always quiet, meditating; deep in thought. Like a taller version of Yoda, but not *that* much taller. If he had in his mind half the things she had running in hers, she wouldn't blame him. She'd felt it. There was a thick, tense atmosphere; a dense sensation of expectation in the air. What they were waiting for eluded her completely, though.  
  
"Ya think we'll find him, Wolvie?" she asked worriedly. What if the urge she felt to find Remy meant he was at danger? Why did she believe that thought had more true in it than what she cared to consider?  
  
Logan grunted. "Well kid, if we're finding him it ain't gonna be thanks to my sense of smell, that much is certain." He sniffed the air and shook his head, while they went further into the city, leaving the suburbs behind. She blinked confusedly.  
  
"What do ya mean?"  
  
"Either the Cajun's cologne is very popular, or the bub's been walking all over town. It's hard enough as it is to follow a scent around here. There's thousands of 'em."  
  
She sighed. Why couldn't their lives be simpler? "We'll have to drive around 'til we find him then, Wolvie. We have to." She said resolutely and Logan nodded, frowning.  
  
"Then what kid? We drag him by the nose back to Chuck's? Ye know he ain't coming back, doncha?" he said, finally looking at her. Rogue's eyes filled with tears.  
  
"He will! He has to! We have to let him know he's still welcome, that's all." She said desperately.  
  
"Here kid." Logan handed her a Kleenex. "He...he's something to do here." He muttered.  
  
"So have Ah." She said bluntly, wondering where that had come from. Logan stared at her for a moment, as if finally understanding something crucial, but then frowned again.  
  
"So..." he begun. "Ye too?"  
  
"Me too...what, Wolvie?" he groaned and hit his head on the steering wheel.  
  
"Shit, kid! It's like I have it on the tip of my brain! I should fucking know this!"  
  
She patted his shoulder compassionately. "Don't worry Logan. We'll find out what's this all about when we find Remy." She said sweetly, Logan smirked.  
  
"*If* we find him."  
  
They'd been driving around town for four hours, not wanting to think about how useless their efforts were turning out to be. They were hungry, cranky and sleepy and it was only 9 a.m. Considering neither of them had slept at all the night before, it was understandable.  
  
"We ain't finding the swamp rat, Ah tell ya!" Rogue spat in frustration.  
  
"Shut up kid, or I'll make ya." Logan spat back, apparently equally frustrated, so she decided to go easy on the feral man.  
  
"Can we stop for a bit? Stretch our legs, grab a bite maybe?" she begged, batting her eyelashes. Logan huffed and parked the Jeep.  
  
"C'mon kid. We'll walk fer a while, find ourselves a decent breakfast fer a change."  
  
They hadn't even reached the corner when they saw the flashy lights of two police cars stopping a block away. Why did they both know they were onto something, none of them would know. Coming across a crime scene in a city like Chicago shouldn't have meant anything, yet they were both drawn to it; they didn't even had to tell the other. They'd both felt it and they both knew that.  
  
"Can you find his scent here?" Rogue asked robotically. Logan appeared to be a little more anxious than her.  
  
"Sure. His and an ol' friend of mine's." he hissed, speeding up his pace.  
  
Rogue's reaction upon seeing the trashed café made Logan forget about old grudges for a moment. She gasped and fell flat on her butt, staring dumbly at the sign.  
  
"Angel's" he read out loud and pulled Rogue back on her feet. "What is it, kid?" he asked kindly, wrapping an arm around her waist to support her and leading her to the steps of a building so she could sit down. She was oddly pale and her eyes were big as saucers. She lifted a shaky finger, pointing at the café.  
  
"Oh my Gawd! Ah've seen this place!" she cried.  
  
"What, the café?"  
  
"Yeah!"  
  
"So what's the big deal?" he asked, a little annoyed, but trying to sound supportive. She looked like she'd seen a ghost.  
  
"Ah've seen it in my dreams! C'mon!" she stood up abruptly, running away and around the corner, with Logan following her confused.  
  
"Wait" where the hell are ya going kid?!"  
  
He followed her to a dark, seedy alley, where he could pick up the Cajun's scent more clearly, plus two other scents that made him shiver. Creed's and blood. Cajun blood to be more accurate. There was a few cops standing next to a plastic bag and Rogue stopped short, almost fainting. He supported her before she had a chance to fall again.  
  
"He's.he's." she stammered. Her brain had gone numb. Logan helped her sit down again and pushed her head between her knees.  
  
"Breathe kid. I'm gonna check that, ok? Don't worry, I'm sure it's not him." He smiled reassuringly and she nodded dazedly. Was he, though? Sure, that is. Yeah, so.he wouldn't say anything but he cared about the guy. The thought that he might be dead had made him a little sad. Just a little. But when he'd smelled the blood and seen the corps, a sense of doom had washed over him. He *needed* to protect him; both of them, or the world would be lost. He might have not known where those feelings where coming from, but now he knew, at last, what he had to do; what was expected of him and why. Rogue was still working on not hyperventilating when a strong arm pulled her up and nudged her away from the alley. She thought Logan looked even more edgy than before, if that was even possible.  
  
"What.? Where.?. Was he.?" she mumbled.  
  
"No, Harpoon. Walk, now!" he speeded both their paces.  
  
"Where are we going?" she asked anxiously.  
  
"I got Gumbo's scent. We gotta find him, quick!"  
  
"Why?! What's wrong?!" she cried.  
  
"He's hurt, and I don't think in the best of companies." He said dryly.  
  
All she could answer was. "Oh."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 


	12. Recognition

APOCALYPSE  
  
Disclaimer: blah, blah. Blah, not mine.  
  
Author's notes; I think this one's a bit shorter than the rest. Be lenient and do review.  
  
CHAPTER ELEVEN:  
  
RECOGNITION  
  
"What happened here?" Rogue asked wrinkling her nose. She'd followed Logan for a couple of blocks now, catching glimpses of fresh blood stains on the pavement along the way. The street they'd walked into was a complete ruin. As an X-woman, Rogue had seen her share of mayhem and chaos. It wasn't so much the destruction of the place; the collapsed buildings that suggested sentinels or the abandon of that street compared to the others of the neighborhood. What surprised her was the sense of death in the air. She knew, she could feel that destruction had caused countless deaths and that had been the intent. Logan acknowledged her question a s it was, a rhetorical one, and didn't bother answering. She saw another blood stain and frowned.  
  
"Wolvie?" she couldn't keep the tremor out of her voice. He glanced at her briefly.  
  
"What kid?"  
  
"That blood.?" she trailed off. He nodded and her heart skipped a beat.  
  
"Yeah Rogue. Either our unknown foe wasn't all that strong, which of course." his tone turned sarcastic. "is not very likely, or the son of a bitch dragged the boy all the way just fer fun." The last part came out as a whisper and Rogue couldn't help but to smile. Wolverine was worried about Remy. Logan stopped short in front of the ruins of and old school.  
  
"Here?" Rogue asked and Logan nodded.  
  
"C'mon, kid. Lets brake some bones." She heard the distinct sound of Logan unsheathing his claws and they walked in as quietly as they could. Despite the abandon of the place, there was clear signs of recent inhabitants. Footprints on the dust covered floor and a clear, new print of something, or someone, being dragged through it along with another bloodstain. They followed the path and found themselves in a room that, even though it was morning, was almost in absolute darkness. Cautiously, quietly, Logan lit his Zippo, only to find a couple of bright green eyes staring defiantly at him. Before he had a chance to see who and what it was, they'd blown his lighter off and charged at him. He could see their contour and their eyes, which was enough for him to fight back, but his attacker was extremely agile and fast, even more so than himself, and he gasped in surprise when the small creature with glowing, green eyes slashed his arm with one of their knives. Rogue was startled by the attack, so she just watched the shadows moving violently across the room, without being able to react for a few seconds. Logan seemed to be enjoying the fight with the sneaky opponent, which she'd decided it must have been a gobbling of some sort. At least that had been her impression. The little shit was fast as hell.  
  
"Need any help, Wolvie?" she asked amusedly, he chuckled.  
  
"Probably kid, but this is just too much fun. Ye go find Gumbo." He panted.  
  
"'K. don't strain yerself." She turned around to look for a door, but as soon as she did, she met a couple of bright red eyes and the glow of something she knew was about to blow up. Remy though, seemed unaware of it. He was just staring sadly at her, his hand glowing brighter with each second.  
  
"Y' came for me? Came to punish me?" he said in a low voice filled with sadness.  
  
"Remy." she whispered, smiling slightly. He didn't answer. "Remy, yer hand, sugah. It's gonna blow up." She continued. He blinked a few times before hurriedly throwing the charged object towards the opposite wall. Logan and his attacker had been inches away from the blast, and both of them were thrown backwards. With the light coming from the door Remy had opened, the room was lit enough for Rogue to see that her gobbling was actually a young girl. Logan apparently didn't take notice of the fact, because he charged at her again. But then again, so had her. Both Remy and Rogue watched with utter amazement as the girl outdid Logan every time. By the few occasions in which she'd been slammed against a wall with nothing more than a little push, Rogue knew that the girl didn't have super human strength or anything like it, and that was even more amazing. Logan, with a lucky strike, cornered her and rid her of her weapons. He pinned her against the wall, holding her still with two claws at each side of her neck. Finally able to take a look at who'd been fighting him so skillfully, he was more than a little startled. His arms and stomach weren't all she'd wounded, he noted. His pride was in the gutter.  
  
"A girl?!" he gasped, and she smiled defiantly at him, not showing a bit of fear.  
  
"Leave her alone." Remy said rather grimly. Logan turned around confusedly to look at him and that was enough for the girl to push him away with her legs and retrieve her daggers. Logan was now trying to cover himself; he couldn't fight a kid, and the Cajun didn't seem to want her hurt. But just protecting himself proved to be harder than what he'd expected.  
  
"Sidney, stop!" Remy yelled, but the girl snorted.  
  
"You ain't letting this sheep live too, frog!"  
  
Rogue realized that it had to stop. The girl wasn't the enemy, but she was a good enemy at that, redundancy aside, having already stabbed Logan more times than she could count. She flew over the kid's head.  
  
"Ah'm sorry sweetie, but yer fighting the wrong crowd." She ungloved one hand and pressed her to the kid's neck. To her surprise, the girl just turned around and dug one of her daggers in her shoulder. Yelping, Rogue fell to the ground, more out of shock than pain. Logan took the chance and locked the kid's arms with his own. She kicked and screamed but was out for the count.  
  
"You bloody bastards! You ain't taking him! I won't let you!" she cried. Remy ran towards her and released her of Logan's grip.  
  
"It's ok, petite. Calm down, I know dem."  
  
"Oh?" she stopped fighting and glared at the two intruders. Rogue was sitting on the floor, staring at her as if she'd something on her face. Logan caught a glimpse of the daggers and felt the room beginning to spin around him. The sight of the kid's ring was too much for him to process on his feet and he fell flat on his behind, much as Rogue'd been doing for the past hour.  
  
"You." Logan pointed out at Sidney. She lifted an eyebrow.  
  
"What mate?"  
  
"Yer a guardian." He whispered. Now it was Sidney's turn to gasp.  
  
"How'd you know, mate?! The guardians don't advertise, you know?!" she said angrily and Remy had to stop her from attacking Logan again.  
  
"I." Logan looked baffled. "I think I'm one, too." He whispered.  
  
"You what?!" Sidney's face was the definition of shock. Rogue, who didn't know nor cared what they were talking about , felt the need to clarify one point.  
  
"Ok, sweetheart." Rogue started, her voice dripping suspicion. "Who and what are ya?! Why didn't my powers affect ya? Huh?" she asked. Sidney seemed even more shocked, if that was possible. She just stared from Rogue to Logan a couple of times before bursting out in hysteric laughter.  
  
"What?" Rogue asked. "What's so funny?!" Logan, who seemed to have been hit by a bus by his revelation, spoke up softly, mechanically.  
  
"Yer the second offspring, kid. That's why." Rogue blinked.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
Remy had been staring from one to the other, sure he'd finally lost his mind, since the scene before him lacked of all sense, and he was standing in the middle of a dark room only in his shorts.  
  
"Can someone explain to Remy what's goin' on? S'ill vous plait? I'm lost."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 


	13. Lambda

APOCALYPSE  
  
CHAPTER TWELVE:  
  
LAMBDA  
  
A forest in Canada 1901:  
  
The first sounds of the morning invaded his oversensitive ears. The sun begun streaming through the tree branches and the young, savage boy tried to summon his surroundings. He couldn't sense danger, but there was something fluffy covering his body and clear signs that he wasn't alone. He remembered a few things; a hint of the reason he had once possessed and was now replaced by a primal instinct started to come back to him. He saw flashes of memories that made him distinctively uncomfortable. A cage, people staring at him and gawking and someone with a whip and no mercy. He'd escaped, lost all touch with his humanity and ran. Whatever was covering him was comfortable and warm, and his animalistic rage was subsiding. He was now able to look around him and make more sense of things. He could almost analyze the situation, instead of simply sitting still, perking up to feel any hint of danger. Seeing a hearth was a step backwards, and his natural fear of fire made him recoil and curl up in a ball against the tree he had been sleeping under. There was another scent besides his own; a human scent, and he didn't trust humans. Not one bit. His thought's were interrupted by someone speaking. He wasn't yet so sound as to recognize what the soft female voice was saying, but his fears weren't justified, he noted. The words he didn't understand, but the tone was soothing, and it came from over his head, on one of the branches. He looked up and caught a glimpse of a dark figure and strands of long, gray hair. He was up and next to her in an instant, still keeping a safe distance and cocking his head like the puppy he was.  
  
".don't.won't hurt.come 'ere.'s alright, child." The words begun to make sense slowly. It was nothing like what the owner of the circus used to say to him. He immediately liked the old woman, but he wasn't about to trust her so fast. Still, when she smiled warmly at him, he couldn't avoid smiling back. She extended her hand, offering a slice of bread, which he took off her hand in one swift motion, quickly regaining his safe distance. He was gulping and choking himself with it, so hungry that he was. The woman came closer, tentatively and his muscles tensed when she rested a hand on his back, fixing his eyes on hers.  
  
"It's ok child. I won't hurt you. I'm a friend." She cooed, rubbing her hand in circles on his back. "I found you sleeping under this tree last night, and covered you with a blanket. I hope you didn't mind me camping next to you."  
  
The boy only stared at her, leaning shyly towards the caresses.  
  
"Who?" he asked. He hadn't talked in so long that he felt strange about hearing his own voice, and his throat felt raspy.  
  
"My name is Lambda, child. And I'm a bit of a witch, you could say, but a good one at that. I knew you'd be here. The spirits told me to find you and take care of you."  
  
His eyes opened as big as saucers and he stared at her in innocent amazement. She certainly looked like a witch; there was a mysterious air about her, and her eyes reflected wisdom and calm. He'd heard people talking about witches, but he didn't know enough about anything to know if he saw one. The woman had fed him, so he had reasons enough to trust her.  
  
***  
  
PRESENT  
  
"Sugah, ye better stay still if ye don't want me hurtin' ye worse." Rogue said softly while bandaging some of Sydney's wounds. The girl was pouting and whining and squirming under her cares, claiming that she was well enough to take care of herself and displaying a moody personality that would have put Moira McTaggert to shame. But Logan was having a hard time paying attention to her ramblings. He was scooted in a dark corner, with his eyes fixated on the floor and his mind miles and years away. A hand dropping carelessly on his shoulder momentarily brought him back from his recently found memories and he looked up to see a Cajun smiling nervously.  
  
"Are y' ok, homme? Y' look like shit." Logan snorted.  
  
"Look who's talking?! Have ye look at yerself in the mirror lately Gumbo?" Remy sat clumsily next to him and sighed.  
  
"Seen better days, me." The younger man grew quiet, sighing a couple of times and rubbing his eyes wearily before speaking. "Logan, can I ask y' somet'ing?" he said finally, almost in a whisper.  
  
"Sure bub, what is it?" Logan answered detachedly. Remy sighed yet again.  
  
"Why did y' come lookin' for Remy?" Logan stirred uncomfortably as a wave of confusion and fear washed over him, reminding him that His young teammate was an empath. Which in turn surprised him, noticing for the first time that he hadn't been broadcasting allover the place, like any other normal mutant would have with recently manifested powers. 'But that's how it's supposed to be, ain't it?' He thought to himself.  
  
"Remy, yer broadcasting." He grumbled, and Remy smiled nervously again, lifting up his hands apologetically. "And there's no need to be afraid bub, we're not here to bring ye back if ye don't want to. No one's really mad at ye. Maybe Warren, but I wouldn't worry about it. But we couldn't let you face this alone. I think,.I know we were meant to follow ye here." The last sentence was said in a whisper, reflectively.  
  
Remy shook his head.  
  
"I still need an explanation. First all dis t'ings happen to me that I don't understand. Dis dreams and de powers. And den dis petite shows up tellin' Remy he's some offspring and bablin' 'bout prophecies. And now y' speakin' funny too. Remy is beginning to feel he be trapped on an episode of Buffy de vampire slayer." Logan laughed a little.  
  
"Don't tell me you still watch that show, Gumbo?!" Remy looked aggravated.  
  
"Mais oui! Why wouldn't I, it's a great show!"  
  
"Whatever you say Gumbo." Logan paused a moment, and huffed exasperated, trying to say what he needed to say in a coherent sequence. "I don't know where to begin, Gumbo."  
  
"How about the beginning, mon ami?" Remy said smugly, and Logan glared at him.  
  
***  
  
CANADA 1910  
  
"Why can I go practice my battle skills with the rest of the guys? I'm a good warrior! I'm old enough!" Logan pouted. He smothered his black uniform, that clang a little to big for his slender figure. He had his black, almost blue, shoulder length hair up in a neat pony tail; all in all, he looked a bit like a templar knight. He stood up even more firmly, and tried to show his tutor that even in his 14 years of age, he was a man and was more than ready to go with the other members of their little group. The old woman smiled, and purposely ruffled his hair to mock him.  
  
"Child, I know you are old enough. And you are becoming a better warrior than any of the others. But they have already learned about the prophecy, and you haven't. It is important that you know what you are fighting for, isn't it?" she said kindly.  
  
"But, ma'am, don't take this the wrong way, but I've heard about it, and how long it has existed. What makes you think I need to know what it's about? The beast's minions attack us regularly, and I'll probably be dead by the time everything that little book of yours says, happens. I'd make myself more useful training." Lambda looked down sadly, and shook her head.  
  
"My dear child. Of all of us, you'll be the only one to witness the prophecy. I've seen it in my dreams. It has started." Logan looked startled.  
  
"Is it true?" she nodded. "That's not possible. The offsprings haven't even been born yet! I may not do my homework, but I do know that the offsprings will be born at least twenty years before it happens, and before that, there would be all this people being born different, with powers similar to the offsprings' and the beast's. The sign of the prophecy and all that." Lambda unsheathed her dagger and quickly took hold of Logan's hand, cutting the skin and drawing blood. Logan pulled out as quickly, his eyes big and filled with tears, trying to hide what he knew it would happen. The wound was closed before the bleeding even stained his shirt.  
  
"You thought you could hide it from me, Logan? You've always been different, child. That's why those mean people used your nexus with nature to show you off like a freak. And now your powers have manifested as well. Did you think I didn't know about the claws either? Child, I saw them before I'd met you." Logan nodded. He understood why Lambda had been looking for him that day. He was the proof that their time was running short. Lambda handed him the book and he begun reading out loud.  
  
"Before people could write about it, a creature with enormous power saw the light of our world. A monster with a corrupt soul, who thought himself to be god. It has maimed and tortured. There is not, nor has ever been anyone with the power to stop the beast. But for as long a time, there has been those who could see the day nature would balance it all. As it always does. The new era will announce the arrival of the offsprings. Children in every corner of the world will be born harboring the sign of the prophecy being fulfilled. Children with powers similar though not as great as to the ones of beast's, children signing the change in human nature. Two offsprings of this era, one with the mark of onyx and ruby, one with the mark of emerald and amber, will awaken to even greater powers, to destroy the beast and allow a better future for the world. The beast will haunt them, torture them, all their lives. The power of the offsprings will be also all the beast needs to accomplish his ascension. If the offsprings choose to follow the beast, it would be the end of it all. A ring has been conjured, one that will make it's bearer immune to the offsprings' powers. The people that called themselves the Guardians, must track the offsprings, reach them before the beast does, and show them the right path. If they were to fail, the bearer of the ring must kill them, and ensure the continuity of our kind, until nature decides to level it's force again."  
  
Logan cleared his throat and put the book down.  
  
"How am I supposed to know who the offsprings are? It's not like the prophecy is all that clear about it. You all talk in riddles and it's getting on my nerve." Lambda laughed.  
  
"We talk in riddles because we can only see bits and pieces of it all. But don't you worry. I've seen it, you will find them. In fact, I envy you a little."  
  
"You do?"  
  
"Thousands of years, we've fought to stay alive, to keep the prophecy from the beast. Lots of us have died trying. I've pledged my whole life, as it was intended, to guide you all through it. I would have liked to meet them, to see the beast being destroyed at last."  
  
"Well, I will know them, as you say, but maybe it won't go the way we are hoping it will. Maybe you are better off not being present when it happens." Logan said rather grimly.  
  
"Let's hope for the best son. It's all we can do." ***  
  
PRESENT  
  
"Wow.dat's.huh." Remy stammered. "So, I'm.y' know."  
  
"Ye're one of the offsprings, yeah." Logan answered, never loosing the reflective tone he had acquired since he'd regained his memories.  
  
"And do y' have any idea how.er.powerful dis beast be?"  
  
"Very."  
  
"Oh." Remy sighed. "And Rogue."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Ok."  
  
"I know, kid. Not everyday ye find out ye're some kinda prophesized savior of mankind, huh?" Logan said amusedly.  
  
"Guess non."  
  
"Now if you excuse me, I need to talk to that girl over there." He stood up, leaving a stunned Cajun behind him. Sidney had been patched up already, and was sitting by the window, staring coldly at him. He sat down next to her and sighed.  
  
"I guess you are the last one, huh? Since you can't be more than 13 and you have the ring." Logan remembered that only the best of the guardians was allowed to carry it. She shrugged, but her demeanor didn't soften.  
  
"Yeah, I'm the last one, mate. I've seen me brothers and me parents die, me friends, everyone. Where were you while all of this happened mate?" she said harshly.  
  
"I.It's a long story kid, but, for what it's worth, I know what you went through." ***  
  
CANADA 1915  
  
"C'mon, Logan! I'll race you to the camp!" Archie, a young man pretty much the same age as Logan, begun running as fast as he could, trying not to drop his charge. They'd been in town all day, gathering supplies for their group. Logan rolled his eyes and tightened his grip of his bags, starting to run.  
  
"Really, Archie, you need to grow up!" he yelled to his friend. When he caught up with him, fifty feet from the camp or so, he noticed he had grown deathly pale. "What is it, bub?" he said, but didn't have to wait for a reply. One glance at the camp and he knew what had gotten his friend so upset. There was only ashes and smoke left. That and corpses. Archie collapsed to his knees and shook his head.  
  
"No.we.we were only gone a day." he whispered. Logan shrugged of the need to cry and pulled the young man to his feet. From the corner of his eye he could see a mass of gray hair tainted with blood.  
  
"Let's go. We have to get out of here, get back to England and tell them what's happened." He said coldly.  
  
"No! we have to look for the book! We.Oh God they must have it!" Archie cried, but Logan shook his head sadly.  
  
"I have it. La.she said I should watch it for a while, she said it'd be safer this way. She know this was coming."  
  
"I'll go to England with the book then." Archie said, shakily. "You stay here and."  
  
"I'll bury them and meet you there, ok?" Archie nodded dazedly.  
  
That night, with his hands dirty with dust and blood, Logan sat infront of the hearth, having the strange sensation that this was the last he'd ever hear from the guardians in a long time.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 


	14. Universe

APOCALYPSE  
  
Disclaimer: not mine, not mine.  
  
A/N: well, if anyone still remembers this story, you'll forgive me for taking so long to update. My computer is still dead, but there's that wonderful ray of hope at the end of the tunnel now, and I may be posting regularly again in no time. Another thing, sorry, but I couldn't help myself, I had to add this chapter. If you haven't read Gambit, the monthly series, my humble appologies. Ask around and you might understand it if something isn't clear enough. Or better yet, e-mail me, and i'll tell ya!.-  
  
Rating's still the same  
  
Feedback at evolution2476@yahoo.com . This is mandatory ;)  
  
CHAPTER 13  
  
UNIVERSE  
  
Whoever said there's a calm before the storm wasn't a very observant person. That so called calm is deceiving. In those silent grey, almost black clouds announcing it, lies a violence and a rage that would make one's heart skip a beat if taken the time to appraise it. And the same can be said about proverbial storms. That quiet sound of inevitability in the air; the goose bumps in one's skin before anything really happens to indicate that hell is about to brake loose. Is that moment that seems to stop in time, that moment that is remembered afterwards with perfect exactitude, even if it only lasted a few seconds.  
  
That night felt like one of those moments. But as Remy thought, he had felt that way for weeks now. He figured if he took the time to really think about what was happening, he'd crawl into a dark corner and cry like a baby. The enormity of what the future held for him should remain ignored until everything was over. It was better to go through it all with a joke and a careless attitude, or he'd go mad. But in the corner of his mind there was something telling him that this was the redemption he had been looking for. A chance to make something with his life, no matter the outcome. And that was rewarding.  
  
In the silence of that night, sitting in front of the small fire he had lit, he relaxed and reflected about the events of the day. Logan and Rogue had come after him. Never mind the reasons, they were there. And Remy could not yet believe there hadn't been no hatred filled looks thrown his way; no spiteful remarks. They didn't hate him!  
  
How was that possible?! How could they have forgiven him after all the time he'd spent hating himself? And they weren't the only ones. Logan had mentioned the rest of the team, or most of it, didn't hate him either. He'd never dared to hope they would still consider him a team mate after his confession. Less alone a friend.  
  
Remy glanced at the sleeping forms of his friends and smiled. His friends, that's what they were, and for a moment he felt he'd finally found home. No matter he might never see Westchester again, it was home.  
  
***  
  
Sidney lay on her sleeping bag, pretending to be asleep. She was too nervous to sleep anyway. She wouldn't show it, but she was scared as hell. Not scared of loosing her life, though it was an unsettling thought. Scared that she wouldn't be able to accomplish her task. For all her power allowed her to see- because that was her power, seeing things others couldn't.- she couldn't see if she was worthy of the task the death of her family and clan had set upon her shoulders. Besides, she'd always known it was her job to protect the offsprings. She'd grown up knowing that. But just now she realised "the offsprings" were more than words on an old book. These were people she had to protect. And people she was starting to like.  
  
Someone nudge her shoulder, but she waited a few moments before opening her eyes, not wanting to give herself away. Then the owner of the poking finger spoke at last and she had to "wake up".  
  
"Petite?.Petite, it's y'r turn now. Remy's too tired to guard anymore." He said kindly, with a smile plastered on his face.  
  
She smiled back and sat up, rubbing her eyes for the sake of pretences.  
  
"'s ok, mate, I'll take it from 'ere. I take it there was no funny business?" Remy shook his head no.  
  
"All calmed. Too calmed for Remy's taste if y' ask, but not'ing happened."  
  
"How's your leg? Did you do what I told you?" Remy nodded.  
  
"Just as y' said. I focused on healing and I did! Dis power be amazing!"  
  
"Yeah. Go catch your sleep. We have a long day ahead of us." Remy cocked his head at that.  
  
"What's tomorrow, petite?"  
  
"Nothing yet, mate, but we have to be alert. I'll tell you when it's starts, don't worry."  
  
"Good night petite." He mumbled, already half asleep.  
  
***  
  
Jacob Gavin Junior, also known as Courier, wasn't a very brave person. That was probably the reason he hadn't complained one bit when this "New son" had asked him to travel through dimensions, even if it felt like crap. It was better to endure a bit of a queasy stomach than to stand up to a guy who can create a cristal cathedral somewhere between space and time. There was no fun in being used as a messenger and being kept completely in the dark about the message, but no,.he wouldn't complain. No sir. He'd just bitch a bit about it, and that would be it.  
  
New son had shown some interest on a particular mutant, one he didn't know yet, but already disliked. If solely for being the cause of his nausea at that moment. His boss had been studying this Gambit for some time, and not one, but every gambit he could come across with in all the universes he could find. But this particular Gambit seemed to fascinate him for some reason. New son had mentioned that they wouldn't be working with this one, but he wanted to talk to him once. Whatever he meant was beyond Courier's understanding.  
  
So, he'd travelled through dimensions and was currently making his way through the remains of an old school. Supposedly the place where he'd find this "Gambit". He'd figured, a knock on the door, deliver the speech and be off. There shouldn't be much trouble in being the messenger, right?  
  
Wrong. Naturally.  
  
Before he could process what was happening, there was a sword at his throat and some kid shouting like a maniac.  
  
"What are you dong here mate? You thought we wouldn't see you, eh?" she yelled. Jacob only managed to raise his hands up in the air defensively.  
  
"I., I." he stammered, and wondered where there would be a bathroom to check if his pants were dry, since he could no longer feel his lower body.  
  
"What? Cat got yer tongue mate? Answer me!" the sword moved a little closer and a whimper escaped his throat. He was vaguely aware of movement behind the hellish kid before his eyes rolled backwards and he fainted. Well, you try to face a certain death after travelling through time and space if you think it's easy.  
  
***  
  
Logan's claws where unsheathed before he'd opened his eyes. His body sensing the disturbs before his mind did. But he wasn't prepared for the pathetic sight of the young man fainting out of sheer panic in front of a thirteen year old. Sure, he'd fought her, she was no ordinary teenager, but there weren't signs of a fight that suggested the owner of the limp body on the ground knew that. Sidney stared at him a little baffled, then back at the young man.  
  
"I don't think he was one of the bad guys." She said, bemusement rising to her eyes. "What a poof!" she laughed, and Logan snorted.  
  
"I'm not surprised kid, with ye charging at him with that sword of yers. I bet ye are the kind that hits first and asks later, huh?" she nodded.  
  
" 's the only way, mate. If not, they hit you first, and we cant have that, now, can we?"  
  
"No, I guess we cant." Logan answered with a chuckle. He really liked this girl. "So, I guess we should get this bub inside. Asking what's he doing here?"  
  
"I guess." She answered, starting to drag the limp body through the door.  
  
***  
  
When his senses started to return, so did his panic, remembering the reasong of his fainting in the first place, but Jake tried to focus and remain calmed. He wasn't dead yet, which meant he might have a chance to explain himself before he had a chance to know if he could still have control of his body with his head being separated from his body. Upon opening his eyes, he found four sets of eyes staring down at him with concern and distrust. A hand immediately flew to his pocket, gripping the little device New son had given him, just to be on the safe side.  
  
He guessed who Gambit was right away, being as he was the only set of red on black eyes, but something on the man's demeanor gave him the impression that it wouldn't be easy to take him to see New son if it wasn't willingly. Not that he planned to kidnap him or anything.  
  
A shorter, more menasing looking man took a step forward and gazed him up intently. Jake could only manage to laugh nervously and sit up rather harshly, again lifting his hands up in the air to show he wasn't a threat.  
  
"Hi there..." he stammered. "I...I..."  
  
"What do you want here?" The girl who'd given him such a fright earlier stated.  
  
"I don't like this guy..." another girl declared, giving him a nasty look. Why? He couldn't know. "There's something about him..."  
  
"I like him. He seems funny." The man he'd guessed was Gambit said, with an expression on his face that made it impossible to know if he was joking.  
  
The red headed girl, with a striking white stripe of hair on the front directed her nasty look to Gambit and back to him with a frown.  
  
"I still don't like him." She pouted. "What do you want here, sugah?" she spat.  
  
He tried to use a tone that would show confidence, but he still managed to say the last bit sounding like a scared little girl.  
  
"I'm here to speak with Mr. Lebeau for a moment. My boss has some business with him."  
  
The bad tempered girl stood right in front of him, almost nose to nose, and waved her little boney finger at him.  
  
"Look 'ere, mate. I don't care if you work for the bloody pope, "Mr. Lebeau", ain't going nowhere, ye hear?"  
  
Jake shrugged.  
  
"I'm just doing my job, he should be back in a few moments. As far as I'm concerned. You'll never see me again."  
  
Gambit stood between the two, a little offended. "I t'ink "mesieur Lebeau" can make his own choices?"  
  
Jake seized the opportunity and grabbed Gambit's arm with his free hand, pressing the little button with the other one. The two images distorted before dissapearing, leaving three stunned people behind.  
  
***  
  
New son sat quietly on his "throne", watching with detached interest the different "windows" that quiet Bill provided of the different universes. He had already chosen the one reality he'd save. The one that was still savable. And he'd prevent the dissaster his own powers had provoked even if it costed him his life. After all, it was HIS life he was about to take, even if it was another HIM. But at the moment he was more interested on another reality. One he'd come across by accident, and so much like the reality he intended to save that it would have passed unnoticed if he'd looked any other time. But as it was, he was witness of the awakening of this Remy Lebeau's powers. He couldn't understand why it had happened, but he knew all too well what it meant. This particular Remy was as powerful as himself, if not more, but there was no use in trying to save that reality, since killing Gambit may have proved to be it's doom and not it's salvation. Still, he found it curious and he waited almost impatiently for Courier to return.  
  
He hid his interest when he saw them, Jakob and a very confused Gambit, coming down the stairs of his cathedral.  
  
"I see you've managed to get him here without a problem." He said without emotion. His other self took a few steps forward, looking miffed.  
  
"Look homme..." he half yelled. "I don' know who y' be, but dat's no way to treat a person. Gettin' dem outta bed in de middle of de night and takin' dem to god knows where like dis! Did I mention I feel like throwing up now? What y' want wit' Gambit?"  
  
"Calm down Remy. My name is New son. "This" is a place I've crated, a place that lays between time and space, my cathedral. What I want from you, nothing. I was just curious, since, of all the realities I've been able to observe, you seem to be the only one of... the only one who didn't need help to develop and control his powers to the fullest."  
  
"Ok..." Remy said, scratching his head. "I be a slow one, 'cause i don' understand rien. But don' worry, Remy don' understand much of anit'ing dis days."  
  
New son rose from his seat and approached him.  
  
"That's just it. I felt like I should maybe explain to you the nature of your powers. Maybe help you understand it's not all as ridiculous as it seems. Your power is and always has been the ability to create kinetic charges. Am i right?" Remy nodded in reply. "So, basically, you handle energy." He nodded again, trying desperately to keep up. "The whole univere, Remy, and everything in it, is basicly composed of energy. Your whole being is atuned to that underlying energy of the universe. Up until now, that tuning was very mild, just like that of any other mutant on earth with some kind of connection to it. Just like a radio, some mutants tune to the energy that conducts thoughts, and then you have a telepath. Some mutants can connect to the passive energy in objects, such as yourself. It's all a matter of tunning. But you were, if in a minor degree, atuned with the universe. For some reason I don't know yet, your powers were enhanced. Your connection with the energies of the universe grew to levels you'd never imagined. You've become a very dangerous person, Remy. I hope you know that."  
  
Remy nodded, he knew what this New son was saying, but he still had a hard time making it fit in his head. Yet he'd known all along he'd become somewhat dangerous and needed to be careful.  
  
"So, dat explains why Remy feels all dose t'ings and can do all he can do now." He said quietly.  
  
"Yes. You're some kind of...well, tuner, for a lack of a better word. If they knew how, someone could very well use you to destroy everything in your universe, as well as others. And I'm afraid, that's exactly what's going to happen unless you stop it. It's a dangerous thing, letting you live. But I've seen what the object of your prophecies can do if it isnt stopped right away, and i know that you are the one to do that. Just remember, as you are atuned to the universe, the universe is atuned to you. Don't let it control you."  
  
By the tone New son used on his last sentense, Remy could tell he was meaning more with that than what he'd said, and he was about to ask what when the same, stomach-turning sensation invaded him and all turned black.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 


	15. AWAKE

APOCALYPSE  
  
A/N: I'm trying. I really am. Please keep reading. I'm sure you'll love it.   
  
Please?  
  
CHAPTER 14  
  
AWAKE  
  
Being an x-woman had always proved gratifying. All the years Rogue'd spent as a   
  
part of the team had earned her a family, even when she kept everyone at an   
  
arm's length, literally. But it wasn't a bed of roses. Far from it. It was   
  
exhausting. There was never time to rest; there wasn't time for having much of a   
  
private life. But she'd managed to bare with it. And she'd learned to value the   
  
quiet moments a lot more.  
  
No one had really wanted to go to sleep that night. Not until Remy was back. But   
  
she'd convinced Logan and Sidney to let her make guard while they rested, after   
  
a lot of bickering and a few attempts at extortion. Now she was happy her plan   
  
had worked.  
  
Rogue figured it was better for Remy to have passed out because, for what she'd   
  
witnessed, whatever kind of trip he'd taken couldn't have been comfortable.   
  
Still, now he was asleep. Looking as peaceful as he'd never seen him look before, and   
  
she couldn't stop looking at him there, with his head resting on her lap, while   
  
she stroked those beautiful red locks of silky hair. He was beautiful. That word   
  
may not apply to other men, but it was definitively suitable for Remy LeBeau.  
  
Curious. If her memory served her right, that was exactly what his name meant.   
  
LeBeau. The beautiful one.  
  
Her thoughts were interrupted by a low chuckle that apparently couldn't be   
  
repressed coming from the "sleeping" beauty. She pushed him away, making him   
  
fall head first on the floor and stood up defensively.  
  
"Ow!" he cried, but immediately resumed laughing. She frowned and crossed her   
  
arms, mocking offence.  
  
"Ye bastard! Ye were awake?!" he nodded, chuckling "What's so funny?"  
  
"Cherie, y' want me!"  
  
Remy was laughing hard, and since it seemed he wasn't laughing at her, but "with"   
  
her, she let it pass and joined him.  
  
"Ya're not supposed to read people like that, sugah! That's just wrong!" she   
  
accused him, without spite in her voice. He lifted his arms defensively and gave   
  
her a mischievous smile.  
  
"Remy wasn' reading no one. Y' just love Remy so much it be impossible for him   
  
to ignore it!"  
  
They could have kept going all morning with the fake fight, but something told   
  
Rogue that was her cue to turn the conversation a little more serious. So she   
  
sat next to him and took his right hand on her gloved ones.  
  
"I do. I love ya so much sugah." She whispered. Remy sobered a bit and kissed   
  
her hair; the same tender way he'd done so, so many times before.  
  
"Je t'aime ausi, cherie."  
  
They held each other for a long time in silence. Neither of them thinking, just   
  
feeling, like they used to when things were ok between them. Those times were to   
  
be treasured. Eventually, Rogue spoke, much like a little girl.  
  
"Remy. . .?"  
  
"Qui?"  
  
"Aren't I supposed to have like super super powers too?"  
  
Remy chuckled.  
  
"I don' know cherie. I guess."  
  
"Ah don't feel any different. Well. . . except for the dreams. Maybe the kid is   
  
wrong and I'm not the second. . . whatever?"  
  
Remy seized her by the shoulders and stared intently into her eyes.  
  
"Y' must be. I'm sure y' are. And y' know why?"  
  
"Why?"  
  
"'Cause this be destiny. And we are destined for each other." He finished with a   
  
smug smile.  
  
"Aw, Remy. . . yer so sweet." She joked. But both knew the other meant what   
  
they'd said.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Archangel woke up with the first rays of the sun. He was sore all over. Whether   
  
it was for flying for as long as he had, for sleeping on the ground, or for   
  
whatever had made him pass out and take him where he was now, he couldn't know.  
  
The last thing he remembered was arguing heatedly with Scott because his friend   
  
wouldn't tell him were the traitor was. After that, everything was blurry and it   
  
made his head hurt to try to remember.  
  
This wasn't good. He had no idea where he was and he didn't feel like asking for   
  
help to any of his so called "friends", who'd choose a thieving bastard over   
  
him. He stood up, groaning, and looked around, trying to recognise the place.  
  
It did look sort of familiar. But besides that, there wasn't anything he could   
  
pinpoint to know his location. As it was, he'd just slept on a generic park, on   
  
a generic city. He'd been on too many cities during his life to recognise one   
  
just for a park.  
  
It didn't matter. He must have gotten there during the time he couldn't   
  
remember. And there was a chance- if luck for once happened to be on his side-   
  
that he was closer to Gambit.   
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
The morning light seeped through the mansion's windows, warming up the air a   
  
little on that cold winter day.  
  
Jean sat alone on the kitchen table, holding a cup of tea and lost in thought.  
  
She didn't want to look around; didn't want to acknowledge her entire word   
  
falling apart. The mansion was in ruins. Almost everyone from the team was   
  
either missing or running away from them. She was loosing it.  
  
She still couldn't believe how many tragedies could decide to happen at the very   
  
same time. Her dear friend and mentor, the professor Charles Xavier, wasn't only   
  
missing from sight. She couldn't find him in the astral plane anymore. It was as   
  
if he didn't exist anymore, and she didn't want to think about what that   
  
implied. Another dear friend, Hank, along with his girlfriend, Joseph and   
  
Bishop, were missing somewhere in the Shi'ar empire; IF they were lucky. Bastion   
  
had nearly killed them all. Outnumbered and taken by surprise, they'd still   
  
managed to beat him. And of course, Gambit running away had set the whole thing   
  
in motion. Logan and Rogue had fled after him for the good reasons, while Warren   
  
had gone after his revenge.  
  
She held Gambit responsible for the whole thing. The rational part of her brain   
  
told her it was stupid, but she still thought about how better things were   
  
before Gambit decided to make a disappearing act. Of course, if she was to be   
  
fair, it had all started with the professor going bananas on them. But Gambit   
  
seemed more suitable for taking the blame.  
  
"What's on your mind, sweetheart?" came Scott's tired voice, accompanied with a   
  
yawn, and she shook herself from those thoughts.  
  
"Nothing worth repeating, baby. Did you get any sleep at all?" she asked after   
  
seeing the bags under her husband's eyes.  
  
"Not really. I'm worried. What's new, huh?"  
  
"Yeah, I know what you mean. What is it this time?"  
  
"Warren. I talked to him yesterday. He was out of his mind. I've never seen him   
  
like this. I think that if he finds Gambit, he'll kill him, and there's nothing   
  
I can do to stop him."  
  
Jean was surprised to actually be worried now, after hearing Scott saying that.   
  
Surely, Gambit was to blame for everything wrong with the universe; but to have   
  
him killed? That was totally different from any of her plans to skin the Cajun   
  
alive. This was serious.  
  
"Oh, Scott. . . " was all she managed. Scott started pacing.  
  
"I can't leave the mansion! Not now! There's only four of us left, I don't know   
  
what to do."  
  
"Calm down sweetie. You didn't tell Warren where to find them, did you?"  
  
"Of course not! You think I'm stupid?"  
  
Jean left her cup on the counter and hugged Scott tightly.  
  
"Then there's no need to worry. You did everything you could. Logan should be   
  
about to call to tell us how everything's going, so stay calmed. You should   
  
probably take a warm bath and try to get some sleep. I'm starting to worry about   
  
you."  
  
Scott smiled at her and sighed.  
  
"That's ok. There's enough worry going around to add yours. I'll be ok."  
  
"Promise."  
  
"I promise." Jean patted his back and started walking to the door. "Where are   
  
you going?" Scott asked.  
  
Jean turned around with a smile.  
  
"There's something I need to do. I'll be back soon."  
  
She needed to talk to someone. About everything, but specially about Gambit, and   
  
she figured the only person who'd have as mixed feelings as her would be Storm   
  
herself. Unless she was late and Ro had managed to work through it already.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Sidney was tying up her shoes, just about to head for breakfast, when her eyes   
  
turned black and she fell into a short trance. When it was over, she stared down   
  
at her ring for a long time. Finally, she walked over to were Rogue and Remy   
  
were making breakfast, with a tense smile plastered on her face.  
  
"Hey you two. . ." she waved at them and they waved back. "That smells   
  
wonderful."  
  
"Merci, petite. Remy's goin' to introduce you to Cajun cuisine. With de help of   
  
the belle Rogue, here." He answered, without taking this eyes of the food.  
  
"That's great. Can I talk to Rogue for a moment though?" she wasn't able to hide   
  
the seriousness in her voice, and Rogue turned around immediately sharing a   
  
worried glance with Remy.  
  
"Sure, sugah. I'll be right back, ok?"  
  
"Don' be too long." Remy said, worry seeping through his voice.  
  
"What is it?" Rougue asked once they were out of Remy's and Logan's hearing   
  
range.  
  
"I've been thinking, about your powers." Sidney started. Rogue interrupted her.  
  
"I'm not the second offspring? Is that it? I knew it!" Sidney lifted her hands,   
  
trying to get her attention.  
  
"Wait, wait! I never said that!" she said urgently.  
  
"Oh? Then why don't I have enhanced powers like Remy there?" Sidney sighed.  
  
"Your power is to absorb other mutant's powers right? That's why you can't touch   
  
anyone." Rogue nodded. "Give me your hand."  
  
"Why?" Rogue asked, suspiciously.  
  
"I need to prove a point."  
  
Rogue reluctantly gave Sidney her hand. She yelped when Sidney took one of her   
  
daggers and sliced a deep cut on her palm.  
  
"You bitch!" she shouted, and was about to return the aggression, but before she   
  
had a chance to do it, the wound had closed, not leaving any scars. "Huh?! What   
  
did ye do to me?!"  
  
"Your powers are enhanced. I just didn't thought of it before. You can absorb   
  
other mutants powers without touching them now. Without even making them   
  
notice."  
  
Rogue scratched her head.  
  
"Then why can I read people's minds like Remy?"  
  
"I thought I'd made it clear that your enhanced powers aren't really mutant. I'm   
  
sure that if you try to charge something, you'll be able to do it, though."  
  
"Oh, I see. This is what you wanted to tell me?" Rogue started to leave, shell   
  
shocked, but a little relieved to know for sure she was Remy's other half.  
  
"Not really. Wait. There's something I wanted you to have. For a while, anyway."   
  
Sidney took the ring off her finger and placed it on her hand. "Give this to   
  
Remy. Have him wear it and. . . you'll be able to touch him without hurting   
  
him."  
  
Rogue gasped.  
  
"Really?! Oh mah God! Thank you!" she gave the girl a quick hug and ran to the   
  
kitchen.  
  
Remy was startled by Rogue's cheerful entrance, but at least that didn't mean   
  
bad news.  
  
"What's so funny cherie?" he asked smiling, and lifted his eyes from his   
  
cooking. He dropped his knife and almost chopped his toe when he saw that   
  
Rogue's green eyes had a golden hallo around them, just like in his dream.  
  
"What sugah, you look like ye've seen a ghost!" she said , he smile never   
  
faltering,  
  
"Y'r eyes. . ." he whispered. "They're . . .different."  
  
"Ah, don't worry. The kid took of her ring, and you saw how the eyes of that   
  
midget change all the time. It'll go away, I'm sure. But look!" she put the ring   
  
on one of his fingers and he stared at it confused. "Ye know what this means?"  
  
"I don' really know, but it must be good. Maybe y' wanna explain to Remy?" he   
  
smiled a little.  
  
"I have a better idea." She said with a mischievous grin, leaning over him and   
  
pressing her lips to his. He braced himself, waited for the agony and the pain   
  
that never came. When he realised he was safe, his heart skipped a beat and he   
  
deepened the kiss.  
  
They could have been kissing for hours. All need for air forgotten. If it hadn't   
  
been for Sidney's wail for help and Logan's low growl after smelling a familiar   
  
scent.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 


End file.
